Turbo Cancer: Day 176 - December 4, 2022
Bed-Bound
On this day, last year, everything changed, again.
In the morning, my mom was happy. She was comfortable in her bed and the drugs were working. Margaret had spent the night, and they had talked and giggled like school girls. She wanted visitors. Several friends were planning on stopping by.
My mom was excited to get ready for her guests. Margaret and I helped her to get up and sit on her bedside commode.
It would have been easier to have her use a bedpan. Emotionally, she wasn’t ready for that. Months earlier she had explained to me that once a person loses their ability to get up for the bathroom, they revert to a childlike state. They lose all sense of independence.
Nobody can ever say that my mom wasn’t a fighter, but lifting her out of bed had become too difficult for me. She had no strength left. I was no longer able to carry her on my own.
Margaret was there to help. During the morning, we were able to get my mom to the toilet on our own. By afternoon, things had changed. It felt as if my mom had become heavier.
We enlisted the help of the young men of the family. My sons and Margaret’s fiancé stepped in. With care, they took turns helping to move her to the toilet.
This was a difficult job for a young man. My mom was fragile. Moving her called for qualities beyond physical strength. The task required gentleness and compassion, as well.
As a mother, I had tried to protect my children from the darker aspects of life. I had attempted to shield them from hardship and suffering. Suddenly, I was asking them to face it, head-on. I was asking them to participate.
I hoped that they would always remember the happy, loving times they had had with their grandma when she was healthy. I prayed that those memories would not be permanently overshadowed by the mental images of her extreme suffering.
However, I asked them to assist her during the tie of her death. This is not something that I had ever expected to have to do.
Margaret and I needed their help. They stepped up to the challenge. I am still filled with pride when I remember the love with which they approached the task.
Through the trauma that my family suffered, I watched my boys blossom.
At noon, with the help of the strong men, we got my mom onto the toilet, cleaned up, ready for her visitors, and then back into bed.
Twenty minutes later, my mom had to use the bathroom again. We got the team together, and took care of the job.
We got her back into bed. She was positioned comfortably, surrounded by pillows. She was happy.
Then, her stomach started hurting. It wasn’t long before she needed to use the bathroom again.
Each time we got her up, she was weaker than the time before. Moving around caused her pain to increase. Suddenly, getting her out of bed wasn’t simply difficult, it was dangerous. The likelihood that my mom would be injured was increasing, with every trip to the commode.
My mom kept insisting that she was capable. She didn’t want a bedpan. She didn’t want a catheter. She didn’t want to be in diapers.
For her, losing the ability to use the toilet felt like the ultimate defeat.
I did not want to take away my mom’s sense of self-sufficiency, but I had to consider her safety. This was the first decision I ever made for my mom without taking her wishes into consideration.
She was too weak and she was having to get up too often. The act of lifting her was causing her unnecessary pain.
We got her back into bed for the final time. Nurse Anne came for her visit, and she showed us how to care for my mom as a bed-bound patient.
My mom continued to have an upset stomach. To keep her clean, we had to roll her onto her side. The movement kept causing the pain to break through her narcotic cloud.
By 3:00 pm, we were all dejected and exhausted.
I told her friends, who had been planning to visit, that this was not a good day. I said that maybe she would be up for visitors the next day.
To support my work, make a one-time donation or purchase art on my ko-fi site:
It is important for the next generation to learn to care for those in need, pain, or suffering. We learn by watching and doing. Grateful that your sons, niece, her fiancé had the opportunity to be part of this crucial time as the mantle passed from one generation to the next. ♥
Kristi, what can I say, you handled it like a champ! Hard decisions have to be made, you didn't shy away from them, leave them for another, you made them!
Bless you and those strong young men!