Saturday, February 16, 2013
But we never made it to the appointment. I arrived at mom's very early that Wednesday morning to find her weak, barely responsive,
and just . . worn.
It didn't take long to realize another trip to the ER was in our very immediate future. The paramedics arrived within moments of the 911 call and she was in the ER within moments after that. And several moments into that visit, mom declared loud and clear, no more!
No more tests. No treatment for the infection, whatever the cause. No chemo.
Several (hundred) thousand anguished moments later, transportation to hospice care was arranged.
And that is where she is today. Tired, but comfortable and content.
The mass, I am told (now) is (very) large.
Mom was (apparently) sparring with herself to find out if there was any extrafight present to partner with the fibromyalgia, osteo-arthritis, and other battles already in the ring. On that early Wednesday morning when she was too weak to stand, unable to tend to her most basic need, and became overwhelmed by the smallest of details, the internal sparring came to an end.
Coherent. Cogent. Convinced.
Nourishment, oxygen, and a drug to help the labored breathing (so she can rest) . . . comfort care has been the order of the last few days.
My older brother will arrive soon.