From Facebook Memories, something I haven’t read in years. The cartoon is a gift I gave her, with some of the words from her own diaries. (You may recall she had an alternative reality on life. Well, I guess that’s one way of putting it!) The other image is called Kamala Resurrection.
Anyway, here is the blog post from 2010:
The last two weeks of Ma’s life were a total roller coaster of emotions: being with her when she was taken into Worthing Hospital and really thinking she would pass on that night. Yet, a few hours later, she was beaming widely, kissing the hands of the nurses who looked after her.
From my 2009 journals: “Sat 21: Not sure who will die first – me or Ma. Got call at around 4 this morning. Was at the nursing home by 05:15hrs and twenty minutes or so later following the ambulance to the hospital.
X-Rays, ECGs and more and all the while she was looking comatose, unblinking. The nearest she got to movement was being gently prodded in the bowel area. Faecal blockage in elderly can apparently cause similar sensory impasse.
Several hours later, I was still concerned enough to ask for a priest to administer the Last Rites. Then, hallelujah, she tried to talk (she had an oxygen mask on) and her eyes were bright again. She held my hand and tried to kiss it saying ‘thank you’.”
I had been with her earlier the day she died – 5th March – and her legs were like tree trunks. Our tiny Ma.
Also from my 2009 journals: “Wed 4: Risked visiting out of hours to help Ma eat but today she was not allowed food prior to an ultrasound later in the afternoon. She still can only manage one word at a time and flags almost immediately, but is still mentally quite sharp.
She was trying to signal me to look under her blanket and I was utterly horrified by how massive her legs were. Luckily a doctor was doing his rounds and said it was something to do with albumen(?) and that when she starts moving around again, they would go down. Not sure when that is going to happen as they had to use the hoist to get her back into bed yesterday apparently because she could not move and neither could they help her without it.
My emotions are bit fraught as one moment she has one foot on the other side and the next she is beaming broadly and kissing my hand (and those of anyone else who helps her). But it made me weep today, seeing her in evident pain, coughing and struggling to breathe and swallow.”
Times passes and memories fade. Words help to relive the moment though, so I am glad of these.