Hey there,
Am still on schedule to get my knee replacement surgery next Tuesday so this is the last installment before that. After, I will always be able to say that I am part Taiwanese. If you do talk to me before then, here is a tip...don't ask me if I'm nervous about the surgery. I'm having a major procedure done in a foreign country that is stingy with the opioids, why would I be nervous. My sister, who has the sheepskin on the wall to prove she is a psychologist, who is apparently well respected in that community and has worked with major sports institutions asked me that exact question.
Here are some questions/comments that I do find acceptable:
- I hope you get a cute nurse and how many sponge baths do you get?
- How much ass will you be kicking post-op and when will you be able to do so?
- Is there anything you need after surgery...like some potent painkillers?
That is about it.
I was gonna give my sister crap for asking the dumbest question you can ask a person doing something out of their comfort zone, like going up on stage or getting surgery, but I am cutting her a break this week cause she is dealing with mom stuff. Haven't given many updates about her since Covid cause it is sad. She hasn't been allowed out of her facility since March, and no one from our family has been allowed in to see her. My sister sees her at a window periodically and drops off food, and we call on Skype all the time, but no in person contact. She has caregivers in all day and was decent for most of the summer, which was surprising since I thought the isolation would have sapped the life out of her. What has been consistent throughout, and had become worse over the months was that she refused to acknowledge that she was in her own apartment. She'd ask when she was going home or would tell me that she stayed in (her caregiver) Arlene's apartment last night or her childhood home almost every time we'd talk. Side note...she also had trouble remember her caregiver's names and never saying it correctly even after 8 hours a day together for months. The funniest name she called Arlene was Praline, which we loved and I called her that ever since. Lately, the only thing she would talk about and was why she was in this strange place and who put her there.
There have been some other signs of decline that are embarrassing to share, but a few weeks ago she stopped eating and started having seizures. The ones she had would make her unable to move or talk. They weren't frequent at first, but then they were and a few days ago she had a couple in a row so they took her to the hospital. They diagnosed her with a urinary tract infection and were about to discharge her when she had another seizure and kept her overnight. Apparently, she was agitated and lashing out, so they restrained her to the bed and gave her sedatives. By the next morning, she was calm but unresponsive. Tests showed some brain infection and the choices were to drill into her head for exploratory something or other, heavy psychotropic meds, or just to make her comfortable. She's 94 and already had brain surgery, so surgery seemed cruel. She has been adamant throughout her life that she wants no tubes, so heavy meds were out, and so we are left with making her comfortable. She is unable to drink, and since no tubes means no IV to hydrate, it has become a matter of time thing.
Today, they moved her back to her place and the hospice people came in to set up her room. Am told that this hospice service is part of Medicare. My sister tells me she is peaceful and does not appear to be in any pain, but that she is unconscious and does not seem to respond to anything she says. Spent this morning debating whether to get on a plane cause obviously would be there to say goodbye, but in this moment of history? First, would risk getting the virus just by getting on the plane, and coming back, would have to isolate in quarantine for 3+ weeks. And they thought she wouldn't make it through last night, so not being able to get there for 48 more hours...have decided for now to stay put. I don't feel guilty, but that I can't squeeze her one more time is a feeling that profoundly has no words. We Imbros are not an openly emotional bunch, but we do feel and hurt, so know that people grieve in their own ways. I have no sadness other than for the suffering she is going through right now. She is 94 and had a really healthy and happy run. No one ever had a bad thing to say about her. She is to be celebrated today.
My sister asked if I wanted to say anything to her. I said "Thanks for everything, Babydoll, The Boy, Betty and I love you, and I promise to always take my shoes off before going into the house.'
I wrote the above two days ago but forgot to hit 'post'. I am gonna share a picture of her below and it is terribly sad, so log off before you get to it if you don't want to see that.
Mom is still alive but has not regained consciousness to this point. Basically, without water, if her body doesn't give up, she will die of dehydration, which makes me shudder every time I think of it. I hope to all hopes that she isn't aware of what's happening and that there is no pain.
Here is a photo from the room...I include it only for the permanent record.
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