Hi everyone
It has been three months now since I had to watch mum pass.She was diagnosed in 2013 with vascular dementia,after suffering mini TIA's.I was made redundant at the time, so fate moves in it's own way and I became her carer.I have been close to mum all my life,she always looked after me through life's journey so it was only right I looked after her in her time of need.At first,you just get on with things as a son,it's your mum,heh,okay she's a bit confused at first but as the years pass,those little things creep in that I'm sure you're all aware of but you just deal with it at the time.You just want mum to be safe,protected,she's eaten and drank enough.I never once considered residential care for her,all her life she never wanted to live on her own,she always had me and in last few years,my elder brother moved back.She had all she needed.She was still my mum,even though she relied on me to be the parent now.Thoughts of one day this will end,she will never get better,what will you do...you put them to the back of your mind.She needs you now so, you live in the day and don't plan ahead,how can you?A daily trip out to the shops,brother is at work,so,you race around to get back,conscious she may have fallen.This becomes your daily routine,the months turn to years.
Then those dreaded UTI's strike.Two years ago,she's at home and you get her through in a month.Seven months later,she's eating and drinking less again.Oh no! She struggles through until collapses in your arms through sheer weakness.A month in hospital to treat her ,visiting every day and she is released,now wearing a pad and so weak she can hardly stand.It takes weeks of feeding her up again until she resembles something of herself year ago.But it is short-lived.All the signs are there...the incontinence for years she had escaped,the constant prompting for her to drink from her beaker,to eat what she could.Then came the wake-up calls in the early hours,tapping on the kitchen window looking for me,going to bed myself but sleeping listening out for her. The care staff would visit daily to clean her and change pad but at times,as a son,that something years ago I swore I could not do became the norm,I couldn't just leave her sitting in a dirty pad until the next day.But we managed,me and mum,she loved me and knew I was only trying to make her comfortable.She had forgotten my name by now and sometimes would smile at me and say "you're my friend!"
Then this year, the dreaded virus struck and we kept her safe from Covid but come May, she was starting to eat and drink less and even though she just started anti-biotics for another UTI, I had to call the paramedics to get some fluids into her, she was starting to dehydrate and shake. It was a quick fix but the following day, I had to get her into hospital.She perked up in the ambulance,even though we were both masked up and I stayed with her until she was admitted onto the ward.Due to Covid restrictions,they wouldn't allow visitors for the first week.My heart broke..how would she cope,she is so used to seeing me every day.A week later,I got to see her for an hour.She was so weak and had thrush in her mouth.She said she hadn't seen me for a few days.Two days later she was starting to pick up again but the doctors took me into a side room and said all her blood markers and indications were that the dementia had its final hold on her.I fought back the tears and went back to the ward.I couldn't look mum in the eye.They wouldn't let her home until a week later,when a final care team were in place. Covid restrictions came back and I couldn't see her until five days later. She looked so frail.She smiled and said "old age." She knew her time was coming.The ambulance brought her home the following day. Tests were Covid free,thank God! A damn UTI had reduced her to this.End of life meds were prescribed.They said it could be days or weeks.Even at this time,I couldn't accept what was happening.I just had to look after mum as always and get her through the day.She was hardly drinking,no hospital drip now to top her up.She ate some food that I spoon fed her.My hopes rose a little,mum was eating! In my mind,I had the day Saturday..it would be Saturday...five days at home then...
Late Saturday night,after days of sitting at her bedside and sleeping on the floor beside her.she gave me a final look.She hadn't spoken for days and I knew she needed help.She wanted to sleep on her side and bed sores were gnawing at her back.The nurse came out and gave her the smallest amount of Morphine and put her on her side.I bedded down on floor later,blindly content she had no pain and was sleeping. I slept soundly and awoke.I got up and looked across to her. I imagined I saw her closed eyes flicker,she was aware I was up.I said I'd get my breakfast and make her a drink, even though she could't. I started brushing my teeth and just broke down,I knew she had passed.The morning was sitting talking to her through tears,notifying doctor,funeral home etc.It was mid-afternoon they carried her out in a green body bag.It all seemed unreal.Forty years of living in this house and she leaves in that.
It has been three months.I have never cried so much in my life,hardly in my life,not even when dad passed sixteen years ago and my sister a year after that.Nothing prepared me for losing mum,even as a carer,I knew what was to come in the end.So many emotions wrapped up in complete numbness and depression. There was a spell of remembering mum as she was, before she got dementia,the mum of my childhood and later years.We had shared a lifetime of memories together.Even my own life's memories became like yesterday.Time seems to suspend,no past or future,it just becomes the now and your own grief of getting through another day without them.People ask "how are you?" I look vague,it throws me,I can't answer,I give a weak smile and shake my head a little.Do I lie and say I'm okay as we all do? I feel like mum is telling me to look after myself now,be happy as she always wanted of me,just be happy....I am crying now as I type this. Yesterday I didn't cry, I felt guilty I hadn't, am I not grieving enough? But the tears come less,I may get a day or two of coping through the day, bills to find,food to get,cat to feed etc without grief hitting me but I know, it's there,lurking,waiting, and I part of me welcomes it.It's mum,memories,it feels real..day to day life doesn't. Like so many of us,grieving or not,we just plod on as the years tick by.I spent two months after funeral bottling it up,heh,I'm a man,I'm supposed to cope but I had broken down too many times and I asked for help.I rang the community nurse who used to visit mum,just hearing her voice brought it all back and I broke down to her.I am now getting help through my GP,a counselor through the local carer's team, and my coach at local jobcentre gave me a list of help online.This forum was one of them. We have our story to tell of a loved one.As a carer,nothing prepares you for what is to come or how you should feel or cope after their passing.When you are looking after them,you keep mentally strong because they rely on you to be strong for them,too.I feel like that strength cracked finally when she passed.Mum would have been 92 in three weeks.I am now mid-fifties,single and lost.At a crossroads in life's journey with a lifetime behind me of good memories of mum.
It has been three months now since I had to watch mum pass.She was diagnosed in 2013 with vascular dementia,after suffering mini TIA's.I was made redundant at the time, so fate moves in it's own way and I became her carer.I have been close to mum all my life,she always looked after me through life's journey so it was only right I looked after her in her time of need.At first,you just get on with things as a son,it's your mum,heh,okay she's a bit confused at first but as the years pass,those little things creep in that I'm sure you're all aware of but you just deal with it at the time.You just want mum to be safe,protected,she's eaten and drank enough.I never once considered residential care for her,all her life she never wanted to live on her own,she always had me and in last few years,my elder brother moved back.She had all she needed.She was still my mum,even though she relied on me to be the parent now.Thoughts of one day this will end,she will never get better,what will you do...you put them to the back of your mind.She needs you now so, you live in the day and don't plan ahead,how can you?A daily trip out to the shops,brother is at work,so,you race around to get back,conscious she may have fallen.This becomes your daily routine,the months turn to years.
Then those dreaded UTI's strike.Two years ago,she's at home and you get her through in a month.Seven months later,she's eating and drinking less again.Oh no! She struggles through until collapses in your arms through sheer weakness.A month in hospital to treat her ,visiting every day and she is released,now wearing a pad and so weak she can hardly stand.It takes weeks of feeding her up again until she resembles something of herself year ago.But it is short-lived.All the signs are there...the incontinence for years she had escaped,the constant prompting for her to drink from her beaker,to eat what she could.Then came the wake-up calls in the early hours,tapping on the kitchen window looking for me,going to bed myself but sleeping listening out for her. The care staff would visit daily to clean her and change pad but at times,as a son,that something years ago I swore I could not do became the norm,I couldn't just leave her sitting in a dirty pad until the next day.But we managed,me and mum,she loved me and knew I was only trying to make her comfortable.She had forgotten my name by now and sometimes would smile at me and say "you're my friend!"
Then this year, the dreaded virus struck and we kept her safe from Covid but come May, she was starting to eat and drink less and even though she just started anti-biotics for another UTI, I had to call the paramedics to get some fluids into her, she was starting to dehydrate and shake. It was a quick fix but the following day, I had to get her into hospital.She perked up in the ambulance,even though we were both masked up and I stayed with her until she was admitted onto the ward.Due to Covid restrictions,they wouldn't allow visitors for the first week.My heart broke..how would she cope,she is so used to seeing me every day.A week later,I got to see her for an hour.She was so weak and had thrush in her mouth.She said she hadn't seen me for a few days.Two days later she was starting to pick up again but the doctors took me into a side room and said all her blood markers and indications were that the dementia had its final hold on her.I fought back the tears and went back to the ward.I couldn't look mum in the eye.They wouldn't let her home until a week later,when a final care team were in place. Covid restrictions came back and I couldn't see her until five days later. She looked so frail.She smiled and said "old age." She knew her time was coming.The ambulance brought her home the following day. Tests were Covid free,thank God! A damn UTI had reduced her to this.End of life meds were prescribed.They said it could be days or weeks.Even at this time,I couldn't accept what was happening.I just had to look after mum as always and get her through the day.She was hardly drinking,no hospital drip now to top her up.She ate some food that I spoon fed her.My hopes rose a little,mum was eating! In my mind,I had the day Saturday..it would be Saturday...five days at home then...
Late Saturday night,after days of sitting at her bedside and sleeping on the floor beside her.she gave me a final look.She hadn't spoken for days and I knew she needed help.She wanted to sleep on her side and bed sores were gnawing at her back.The nurse came out and gave her the smallest amount of Morphine and put her on her side.I bedded down on floor later,blindly content she had no pain and was sleeping. I slept soundly and awoke.I got up and looked across to her. I imagined I saw her closed eyes flicker,she was aware I was up.I said I'd get my breakfast and make her a drink, even though she could't. I started brushing my teeth and just broke down,I knew she had passed.The morning was sitting talking to her through tears,notifying doctor,funeral home etc.It was mid-afternoon they carried her out in a green body bag.It all seemed unreal.Forty years of living in this house and she leaves in that.
It has been three months.I have never cried so much in my life,hardly in my life,not even when dad passed sixteen years ago and my sister a year after that.Nothing prepared me for losing mum,even as a carer,I knew what was to come in the end.So many emotions wrapped up in complete numbness and depression. There was a spell of remembering mum as she was, before she got dementia,the mum of my childhood and later years.We had shared a lifetime of memories together.Even my own life's memories became like yesterday.Time seems to suspend,no past or future,it just becomes the now and your own grief of getting through another day without them.People ask "how are you?" I look vague,it throws me,I can't answer,I give a weak smile and shake my head a little.Do I lie and say I'm okay as we all do? I feel like mum is telling me to look after myself now,be happy as she always wanted of me,just be happy....I am crying now as I type this. Yesterday I didn't cry, I felt guilty I hadn't, am I not grieving enough? But the tears come less,I may get a day or two of coping through the day, bills to find,food to get,cat to feed etc without grief hitting me but I know, it's there,lurking,waiting, and I part of me welcomes it.It's mum,memories,it feels real..day to day life doesn't. Like so many of us,grieving or not,we just plod on as the years tick by.I spent two months after funeral bottling it up,heh,I'm a man,I'm supposed to cope but I had broken down too many times and I asked for help.I rang the community nurse who used to visit mum,just hearing her voice brought it all back and I broke down to her.I am now getting help through my GP,a counselor through the local carer's team, and my coach at local jobcentre gave me a list of help online.This forum was one of them. We have our story to tell of a loved one.As a carer,nothing prepares you for what is to come or how you should feel or cope after their passing.When you are looking after them,you keep mentally strong because they rely on you to be strong for them,too.I feel like that strength cracked finally when she passed.Mum would have been 92 in three weeks.I am now mid-fifties,single and lost.At a crossroads in life's journey with a lifetime behind me of good memories of mum.