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| Jenny, Mama, and Daddy |
The conceptions we create of our parents over time as we grow from children to adults can be quite interesting to say the least. We come to learn new details about our parents that challenge those long held perspectives we’ve built, leading us to see our parents in a brand-new light.
This has been my experience with my mother and my understanding of her has a strong patient advocate. I grew up not only believing but knowing my mother to be a fierce advocate for me. I learned how to be a patient advocate for myself and others by mom’s example, seeing how hard she advocated for me over the years into my adulthood even. Naturally, I presumed that my mom was just as strong of an advocate for herself as she always had been for me. And perhaps she always was. I know she was with insurance companies a fierce advocate for all three of us. But outside of the home, I wasn’t there to witness her self-advocacy most of the time.
I started this article months before we lost my mom. When I re-read it to try to finish it soon after losing mom, I felt like I had been so unfair to mom about her level of self-advocacy. The day before she was hospitalized, I had even told mom, “I wish you took your health serious” in frustration when mom and dad told me that neither one of them had yet to call her Urologist two weeks after her ER trip for UTI. Mom replied “Whatever” in disgust. That’s all the energy she had to spend on it. I apologized to her the next day when I saw her. She told me it was okay. I’m so glad I made sure to apologize to her.
In spite of mom’s multiple health conditions that caused pain and limited her absorption, she was holding her own remarkably well until 2023 when her symptoms appeared to be out of control to me – her blood sugars wildly high with extreme lows, her mental capacity affected by relentless fatigue, ongoing urinary infections, and chronic pain. As an adult, I never shied away from sharing my medical knowledge with my mom for helping her to receive the best medical care and resources available. But I didn’t interfere or assist with her medical care until 2023. I didn’t know she actually needed me to but as I began to discover the magnitude of her worsening symptoms, the more I realized my conception of my mom as a strong patient advocate in a large part seemed to only be applied to her advocacy regarding my care – she wasn’t using her advocacy skills for herself, and she had all kinds of understandable reasons to why that was. What I discovered through it all, was I don’t think mom knew the right questions to ask and she became so overwhelmed with multiple medical appointments every week and her body was becoming increasingly tired, weak, and painful that the frustration of it all led to a bit of indifference at times that I don’t think necessarily was there in years prior.
We agreed that I’d take an active role in her medical care going forward, acting as her liaison between her and her doctors, assisting with arranging care and going to appointments with her as needed. By the one-year mark of my active role in her caregiving, she was in a lot of ways in a better place physically than she was before I took over her care. I still grapple though with trying to understand how my mom allowed herself to get into some of the situations I found her to be in because she didn’t advocate for herself when she fiercely, unashamedly advocated for me even when I hadn’t asked her to and especially when I told her not to, and she still did.
With my assistance, we changed some of her providers to ones I trust. I have a long-held mistrust of medical providers on the count of my medical trauma as a child, so when I trust a provider, it means a lot. This included changing her Rheumatologist and Endocrinologist. Over the last year of her life, she was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis and was in the process of being scheduled for an infusion to reduce her high inflammation markers. She continued to have chronic urinary infections that her Nephrologist believed resulted in a bacteria colonization of her bladder and had become drug resistant. In addition to the Nephrologist, she was also followed by a Urologist who aided with managing her urinary infections. We were receiving the guidance of a Diabetic Registered Dietitian who worked in conjunction with her new Endocrinologist for her Diabetes. She also was receiving treatments from a nerve renewal clinic for her Neuropathy that had improved her mobility and balance.
I’m fortunate that dad remains in pretty good health and together, we were able to coordinate care for mom. As someone with a multitude of chronic health conditions myself, I honestly don’t know how others manage their own health and that of their loved one without help especially if the caregiver is still working. I know it was a lot at times even for dad to leave the house to run errands or complete other necessary business due to fear of leaving mom alone. A fear that was understandable and dependent upon not just the day but the hour. It worked well for us that dad was able to attend and take her to her appointments and I focused more on the communication with providers and coordinating care as I have a deeper understanding of the behind the scenes and medical details. This knowledge, sometimes an annoyance to my parents, helped them better understand the gravity at times that mom was facing and led me to have some quite frank, heart to heart conversations with my parents.
Understandably, mom became tired of having so many doctors to see and taking so many medications. She had quite a lot more to cope with than myself. Yet, at times I struggled with her resistance when she told me she didn’t want to pursue an evaluation or treatment because she didn’t want to have another appointment or another medication or nutritional supplement. I struggled with my patience and empathy at these times as I was transported back in time to my high school years when I wasn’t given a choice and in efforts to quite literally keep me alive, I was forced to endure repeatedly painful procedures and follow strict, absolutely dreadful protocols. Mom struggled with a poor appetite and unintentional weight loss from her malabsorption issues from multiple disorders (and as I feared, also Failure to Thrive). I often wanted to scream “I’m just trying to keep you alive!”. The nutritional supplement options from 20+ years ago are significantly better in not only options available but also in taste. As a teenager I was forced to ingest foods that made me gag from the taste and odor of them but nowadays, there are protein bars that taste just like candy bars and protein drinks that taste like milkshakes.
It was in these moments that I had to pause. Patients often feel smothered, controlled, and burdensome in regard to their caregivers and caregivers often feel overwhelmed and consumed by their concern for their loved ones. These feelings though are frequently miscommunicated in ways that hurt the patient-caregiver relationship leading to feelings of resentment. Keeping this in mind, I paused. Arguing is not helpful. Clear communication of feelings and knowledge as to why XYZ is being asked of the patient and why ABC is being resisted by the patient is helpful to come to an understanding of one another and the root issue. It’s at these times that I set my parents down for a heart to heart.
Fortunately, mom responded well to these heart to hearts and they left her with increased motivation, and we were able to devise a plan for how to still pursue an evaluation with possible treatment but closer to my mother’s terms. For example, when she told me that she didn’t know if she still wanted to pursue a Hematology referral we compromised on, make the appointment as the Hematologist doesn’t likely have any new patient openings for anytime soon and if it’s still earlier than you’d like, schedule it further out.
While her symptoms did significantly improve after I started helping in her caregiving, the last 8ish months of her life, her health rapidly declined to the point that I knew if things continued the way they were, she wouldn’t survive another year. One of my worst nightmares is losing my parents and is something I’ve been fervently working to process and heal from in therapy since 2022. Thankfully for my own well-being, I stopped running from the pain of processing my trauma that solidified an unhealthy attachment to my parents. I’m not sure how I’d be able to cope with the events that have been transpiring if it weren’t for the intense trauma therapy I continue to receive.
In my opinion, there were 2-3 main areas of focus for decreasing mom’s symptoms to allow her a better quality of life and an extension: managing her liver disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, and urinary infections.
We made a lot of progress alone in her liver disease by the success of her Advanced Endoscopist (two weeks before her passing) to finally and fully remove a large bile duct polyp that significantly contributed to the development of liver disease. The location of this polyp was only allowing our GI specialist to trim the polyp every 3 months in an ERCP. As the polyp grew, her symptoms worsened and each ERCP was hard on mom requiring additional recovery period. While the Advanced Endoscopist was successful in fully removing this large polyp, another polyp was discovered further up in the bile duct but was scheduled to be tackled in her next ERCP.
She was diagnosed with Emphysematous Cystitis (EC) just two weeks before she died. EC is a UTI with a gas producing bacteria. This was particularly concerning for me as the mortality rate for EC is reported to be 7% and if not caught early, increases to 20%. This wasn’t what ended up killing her though.
Combining this knowledge with my trauma attachment, was devastating for me. However, I coped much better than I would have before I started my intense healing journey in 2022. While I was fearful and anxious, I was able to navigate it with greater ease than in the past and came away from that experience with the realization that I needed to remain alive for mom to receive the care she needed, especially if her health was going to continue to decline. And most importantly, I was okay with being alive for her until her passing. This alone is an incredible display of growth on my part as I’ve had the long-held wish that I should die before my parents out of fear of how I would even possibly be able to cope and live without them. Through my therapy and before losing mom, I reached a place I knew I could not only envision life without my parents, as difficult as it would be, but I knew that I would be able to manage. While my life wouldn’t be the same without my parents, I believed I would be able to find a way with the support of my people, to live and not merely survive. I still do not want to live without my parents, but I was able to trust that I would be able to live and accept the need to be alive for my parents’ well-being during their final years. Now don’t get me wrong, I still hoped we all three would have died together as my parents and I have often joked about in some natural disaster – this remains my ideal.
Dad and I never imagined though that we would lose her so soon. I tried to prepare dad for thinking ahead because of mom’s rapidly declining health. I was afraid she would require a 24/7 private caregiver or nursing home placement before long. After she was treated for the EC, she had an incredible 1.5 weeks for her. She went out and did things, went to many medical appointments and was able to go do the things she wanted as long as dad drove her and helped her walk into places. And then on that Wednesday, she started feeling worse. Thursday, she cancelled her medical appointment that day. Friday she couldn’t move without dad’s help, she was hardly eating or drinking anything. She refused to go to the hospital. Dad never pushed mom to do anything medically she didn’t want to do. She didn’t seem to take it well from dad. Whereas, with me, she did.
I came over on that Saturday morning and dad asked me to try to convince mom to go to the hospital, to the main location, and by ambulance. Mom was curled up on the couch, she probably weighed under 100 pounds at this point if it wasn’t for the loose skin of her apron belly from her abdominal surgeries. She couldn’t move any amount without increased pain and of course remaining still didn’t alleviate her pain either. She couldn’t walk by herself; she couldn’t pick up her legs onto the couch herself. She couldn’t really do anything by herself. Amazingly though she was able to clearly remember her medications and when to take them. Liquid dribbled out of her mouth when she tried to drink from a straw – more than I had ever seen. She could barely talk. She had difficulty enunciating and while she could kind of say sentences, they had to be short, but the words were hard to understand. These two things alone were new, alarming developments.
When talking to mom about needing to go to the hospital, her response was “what are they going to do? Give me fluids and antibiotics?”. She was exasperated and I could tell she didn’t think the hospital was going to do anything more than fluids and antibiotics so what a waste. I just thought “No, mom. They’re going to do so much more.” I explained to her that she couldn’t live much longer like she had been the last two days, she wouldn’t make it through the weekend if she didn’t go to the hospital. I convinced her to go by ambulance to the hospital we knew she needed to go to for the best care, where most of our doctors are.
I had access to mom’s patient portal so every time she had any test done even in the ER, I could view the results long before the ER nurses or even the doctor came to tell us. From the lab results and when the ER doctor was finally able to see us all in person, he asked the nurses why she was still there in ER in an urgent questioning manner and when he said, “She should be in ICU”, I knew we were way deeper in it than any of us had realized. We never would have guessed that mom was in septic shock, her life was second to second. The ER doctor wouldn’t let mom make any decisions, he said she was cognitively impaired from the sepsis. We went against mom’s wishes and made her a DNR for that day and night. And through all of this, mom had some of the best hearing she had in years and would remember things being said around her and then later on ask for clarification about what we were talking about. We were astounded. But that was mom. She was always leaving us astounded and she continued to the rest of her life up until her final breath. She was alive long after she medically, scientifically should have died. She became lucid enough in the midst of everything that while I was making the medical decisions for her, I felt she was lucid enough to be involved in her care and to know what was going on, no matter how harsh the truth was. And that’s how mom wanted it – she wanted to be involved in her own care and she didn’t want anything kept secret from her. She furrowed her brows I was told when I would talk quietly to any hospital employee and especially if I stepped out of the room to talk to them. And she would relax and appear relieved and peaceful when I would come back and tell her what had been discussed. She even asked me that second day in the hospital, “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” No mama. Never. She hated it when I told her we didn’t know things, she was afraid that I was hiding the severity of things from her. I just didn’t know because I couldn’t tell the future – I knew the current risks but I didn’t know what was for sure going to happen until the day I had to tell her that we were putting her on hospice. That was when we knew there was no more hope of saving her. The only thing left I could do as a caregiver was make her last days as comfortable and full of love as I possibly could. And I did just that with the help of my dad and mother-in-law. She died with me and dad by her side. Her ever-faithful daughter never leaving the hospice facility and rarely leaving her room while her ever faithful husband took care of their home and her pets for her when he wasn’t at the hospice facility.
Mom had an affinity for dragonflies the last few years of her life, she liked that they’re called Skeeter Hawks. As we left the hospice facility to return to our own homes respectively after saying our final goodbyes to mom’s physical body – a dragonfly was caught in the grill of mom’s car. I asked dad what he thought it meant.
“I caught her”.
Watch Sharing Mama’s Story for a detailed account of mom’s last weeks alive, including our time at the hospice facility together.
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