Doemary My MIL
I haven't been equipped before this day to even write one word about this unfamiliar journey which began early last July.
We knew that my husband's elderly mother had breast cancer and colon cancer which had metastasized to her liver. My mother-in-law, who I will now refer to as Liz, resided about 800 miles away in another state. We were not close to her due to her history of alcoholism and the childhood abuse that my husband and his sister endured. Liz became a widow at thirty-two and never remarried. I had only met her once years ago when she remained intoxicated almost the entire week. I was raised United Methodist and hadn't encountered such behavior prior to meeting Liz. I visited her another time when we visited her home state and she was as sober as a judge because she was the primary caregiver for her eldest sister. We didn't know what to say to each other, so we smiled and nodded often.
Often geographical distance makes a person seem less real. As the old adage goes, Out of Sight, Out of Mind. We made the token phone calls for Mother's Day, birthdays and Christmas. Otherwise, we didn't visit, we didn't send letters, and we didn't nourish a relationship. We barely maintained one and it worked for us. At least we believed that it did. Then, Liz became ill.
She wasn't completely alone. Liz had her nephew who was a M.D., his wife and a niece who is a saint. Operations were needed for the colon cancer, treatments were necessary to keep the cancer at bay and we were still 800 miles away, pretending like she wasn't our problem. Her doctor nephew didn't understand why we didn't have a relationship with her because she was the sweetest lady. I briefed him on her children's childhood memories and he seemed to understand. I had no history with her except for a few phone calls to check on her and to say hello.
Then, she fell in her house and had to be hospitalized. Her nephew called us and said that we had to take responsibility for her and let her live with us. He told us that she could take care of herself because she had been doing so prior to her tumble. After much discussion between my husband, his sister and me, we agreed that she should come to live with us. It wasn't an easy decision, but we felt like it was our duty to take her into our home.
This frail eighty-five year old woman flew down here and we retrieved her in a wheelchair. I never saw her walked unaided. She used walker or rode in a wheelchair.
Her medications were overwhelming! She asked me the first evening to help her sort them out. She had two pages of meds and with the times to take them. This woman was a walking pharmacy! I set about to getting her an appointment with an oncologist. The following Thursday, the oncologist had reduced some of her medications and given her a prescription for hospice. One week after she had arrived to our home, we were having hospice visit us. Our quiet couple life had became filled with CNA, Certified Nurses Aides, RN's and bathroom equipment i.e. a raised toilet seat, shower bench and bars.
The spare bedroom looked more like a hospital room and this was only the beginning. I was handling this okay. The days that hospice couldn't shower Liz; we took it upon ourselves to try undertake this task. With swimming suits on and water everywhere, my husband and I successfully showered her. Liz constantly said, Don't let me fall! We would reassure her that we had her and not to worry.
We went through the days and nights until Liz began to not sleep. Thus, she would try to get up to go to the bathroom and wake me up. I wasn't sleeping and I worked a 40 hour week. Of course, her son would hear her up at times also. She was so unsteady on her feet. She was incontinent and since she had colon cancer, she would have accidents or the need to frequent the bathroom.
I fired the first hospice. They hadn't helped me with her medications, i.e. dividing the pills out weekly. They hadn't caught on that she was allergic to morphine. I felt like we were in this alone.
Fortunately, we found another hospice company well known and professional. Day by day, I was losing myself and thinking only of Liz while I was at work. I also felt like I was slowly slipping into depression. Lack of sleep and other activities were taking a toll on me.
Liz fell in our house trying to get up to go to the bathroom. By now, she had a catheter and mainly stayed in her room. My husband had come home early from work and he was able to help me get her up off of the floor. It was my day off and I had wondered how I would have been able to get her back in bed. The hospice nurse told me that next time to call the fire department.
Liz went to the hospice hospital for blood pressure control and respite for us. I was informed while I was there that Liz could no longer stay alone. I checked in getting sitters. After Liz's three day hospital stay, she returned home and seemed weaker and more dependent upon us. My drive to take care of her was gone. I was extremely depressed and overwhelmed! I went to work and quit! I told my boss that I couldn't do both and luckily, my boss had been through this life experience before with her own father. One's emotions are completely out of control. My boss suggested a nursing home and with hospice's help and a neighbor's, she was residing in a very nice one the next day. Liz had lived in our home for two months. I had barely survived!
Sure, she was angry with us for her nursing home placement. Hospice would still take care of her at the nursing home. We were now spending down her money. I explained to her that I was experiencing chest pains and had been to the doctor. I told her that I couldn't provide her with the care that she needed and that this was too hard on me and her son. She remained angry for about two months. Liz complained about her food, wanted a new roommate and nothing was good enough.
Then, she became sicker. Respiratory infections twice with breathing treatments, small strokes and no appetite are some of the recent events. We all saw her as the frail, dying old lady who had left everything that she had ever known to be moved to Texas to die. My anger began to diminish and my husband once again became her son and her daughter rediscovered her mother.
I have had spiritual encounters with her when she was very lucid and told me that she knew that she dying and not to be afraid of it. She wanted to see her mother again and meet her father since he passed away two months prior to her birth. Through my own tears, she comforted me and told me that there wasn't anything to be afraid of. It seems at times as if she is living between two worlds.
Rarely does she recognize me, but smiles and tells me some wild stories. Hospice has told us to expect such things because she never leaves her room and rarely sees other people. She has her own reality going on and it seems to comfort her for now.
I try to protect my husband and his sister. I visit Liz often, but I realize I can't protect them and that I need them on this journey for support and companionship. My sister-in-law works in ICU in a hospital so she knows what to expect. I have had Liz dying many times. I haven't ever seen anyone die slowly. Parts of our beings seem to be going with her, but we have learned how to love someone who we thought was a stranger, but turned out to be our mother. Blood connects a family at birth, but love binds. It's like a vine weaving itself on an old cyclone fence. You don't really know where it began growing and the end is nowhere in sight. We don't know what kind of missions God will give to us, but we know that He is with us. That is where my strength has been all along; I just wasn't willing to ask Him for more help.
I have loved another mother besides my own mother, Mom. This mother I call Doemary.