My mother died last Friday ; not totally expected as she was 91 (her birthday was the next day.) The usual emotions, as you would expect, have followed. We brought her home for the last month so she could die in her familiar surroundings, as she wished. It was a slow decline, with unfortunately a rather distressing ending.
I can't speak highly enough of the the medical professionals who cared for her in her final days : her doctor, available 24 hours a day ; the care workers who washed and changed her, and the Macmillan nurses who gave comfort and solace both before and after her death.
The NHS comes in for a lot of criticism, but from this experience I am, to be honest, overawed by the care shown. A large amount of medicines, personal clothing, food, a bed with bedding were provided, free of charge. Labour had better be aware of any radical changes to the care offered to people who are are in their last days of life. I don't know how I would have coped, not only with the care shown, but the expense of the help offered, all free. They should walk very carefully indeed in their zealous pursuit of 'reforms '.
It's been difficult in the following days. Her husband, my stepfather, is 90 and himself not in the best of health. Sympathetic telephone calls, visitors and bereavement cards just add to his despair. He had a fall the day after the death so can't really do much around the house, so I cook his meals and generally look after him. It's not if I'm alone, siblings and friends come to visit and he puts on a veneer of normality. Once were alone it's another matter. A gloom descends upon the house, and it's not easy to cope with. To be honest I can only see one outcome in the coming weeks/months.
I'm a total atheist but something really eerie happened in the last week of my mother's life which has thrown me a touch. She had a personal alarm which she could press which would alert me that she needed something. All three occasions occurred at 03.00 a.m.
The first strange happening was when she pressed the alarm and said, " The train's here but I don't want to get on it. "
A couple of days later she said, " I've missed the train, when is the next one ? "
Then, just before she died, she said, " I've caught the train and it's moving. "
She was on morphine (kept the bottle for my dotage) but only for the preceding day of her life. Maybe it was the fevered dreams due to her condition that made her hallucinate, but there's a nagging feeling...
I've received all the well meaning platitudes from well meaning people, but it does get you down a bit when gloom envelopes you, and you look forward to going to the shop for half an hour, but no longer because you have to get back, in case...
