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TITLE: A Little Each Day By Lynette Duquette 10/30/06 |
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A Little Each Day
By
Lynette Duquette
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31
Part One
January 1, 2007 will mark the two year anniversary of my mother’s long death. I say long, because she started dying approximately 7 years ago. My mother suffered from alcoholism, chronic depression, and many other medical problems to numerous to list here. Her life almost ended in 1988 when she had internal bleeding, and ended up in an intensive care unit for a month. However, she recovered and was doing well for quite a while. Two fractured hips laid her up a few years apart, but again she did well with a physical therapy plan.
Her life took a downward turn after my father had died in 1999. A while after I had moved back home to care for her it was decided to move her into her own apartment, and bring in outside help. She would not do the things requested of her to help keep her healthy while in the home, as I believe being her daughter she may have felt she had no reason to do as I asked.
Progressively, her health deteriorated and she would not concede to the help we were trying to give her. It all came to a head when her doctor decided it would be beneficial to her to put her in a rehabilitation home for a short time. The purpose was so she could regain some strength in her legs, and be able to use a walker again instead of a wheelchair. Unfortunately, it did not produce the results we had hoped.
While in the nursing home, she had a series of TIA’s, trans-ischemic attacks, or what some may call mini strokes. We were becoming aware that she may not be returning to her apartment. Visiting her was becoming more stressful, as she couldn’t recall the passage of time, why she was there, and why we wouldn’t let her go home.
A while later, she had fallen and broken her femur in an attempt to use the restroom without the aid of a nurse. She required surgery, and a rod was placed in her leg. It was at that point we realized she would not be going home, but a skilled nursing facility would be her best option.
Right before she was moved, she had a stroke, and had to be hospitalized again. She lost much of her memory, and did not recall much of her stay at the rehabilitation facility. On that day I knew things were going to become more difficult for my family, and for her. Although a bit selfish, a big part of me wondered how much longer we would have to endure this trial.
She was moved to a home closer to where my family and I resided, and we visited a few times a week. My mother would always ask us when she was going home, and we skirted the issue as much as possible. Many days the nurses would call me and tell me she was ridden with anxiety over something, and asked if it was possible for me to come calm her down. In all honesty, I dreaded those days. However I know the Bible says we are to honor our parents, and it was my duty to be there for her.
A year had gone by, and Christmas came. I shopped for her, so her grandchildren would have gifts, as that was important to my mom. But many times I had to go back and tell her I had already done it, as she couldn’t recall that I showed her what I had bought.
The week of Christmas, my mother was felled again by a more serious stroke, and had to be put in facility that had the means to care for someone with a feeding tube, as she could not swallow. Christmas Eve that year, I was ill enough to be hospitalized with stomach flu, and there was some discussion of a mild heart attack. That was later discounted, and was learned to be an arrhythmia due to a potassium imbalance from the dehydration I was suffering. I had been in the hospital five days. Many of those days, I prayed to God that I did not understand what was going on, and why all of this was happening. Sadly, I also did not notify my church of the situation, and that was out of plain stupidity. I felt that all that was going on was just something I had to deal with on my own. I was a young Christian at the time, and did not understand much about God and His faithfulness, mercy and grace.
I recovered, and my mother was still in the other facility, and having not seen her for quite a few days, I went to visit her. My brother and I chose not to reveal my illness to her, because it would serve no useful purpose. Truly, this was one of the hardest days of my life. I arrived at the home to find my mother with a tube inserted into her nose so she could receive liquid nourishment. She tried many times to remove it, only to have it reinserted.
My mom was adamant about finding my dad, and she wanted to know why he wasn’t there to see her. This broke my heart, as my father had been deceased for five years. I stood there, at a complete loss as to what to say to her. She was yelling at me, however her speech was so impaired at this point, much of what she was saying I couldn’t understand. All I know is she was demanding that my father be brought there. Tears streaming down my face, I retreated out into the hallway. I didn’t want my mother to know why I was so upset. I spoke to one of the nurses, and let her in on what I had just been through, and she recommended that I go home, or I would end up being back in the hospital myself. She was a smart woman.
Eventually my mother was moved back to the original nursing home close by, and I had increased my church attendance. I specifically remember a day when during praise and worship, I was crying because I was so angry. I was angry at God, and I was angry at the devil. I repented of my anger at God, and cried out to him. I told the Lord I didn’t want to do this anymore, that I was tired. I believe that day he renewed my strength, because I had been honest in my feelings.
Each day, I could see her die a little more, and my grief was beginning. The Lord was strengthening me in and through my grief though, because He knew her time was coming, and that strength would help me to make the hard decisions that were about to come.
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