Have I told you before that my Mother-in-law is a hypochondriac? Or she was. Now she is a ghost. Or she was a ghost; a living ghost I guess. I'm not sure what she thinks she is now.
Despite doctor approval and our encouragement, my mother-in-law hasn't gotten out of her nursing home bed since February. After being in the hospital for a week at the end of January, and soaking up all the attention there, she didn't want to go back to the nursing home. Then, when the doctor indicated that she would continue to have problems and soon be back in the hospital again, she decided to quit taking all her medications and just pass away. She did have to go back to the hated nursing home, but she agreed to go only because she didn't have to stay there long before the end came. The doctor predicted she would have five days. So she didn't feel the need to get out of bed for the event.
Then a funny thing happened. She started feeling better. She stopped complaining about everything, she started smiling again, and she even joked around with us. But she was still wouldn't get out of bed.
I think she didn't want to be standing up when it happened. She wouldn't roll over in bed either. She wanted to be lying on her back, with her eyes closed, and hands folded over her chest, like in the old movies. Let me tell you, during those first few days, it was pretty unnerving to walk into her room, see her pallid remains, and realize that she had passed on during her nap. Both Hubby and I had a couple of moments when our breath caught in our throats, tears started welling up, and then she opened her eyes and scared the crap out of us.
But last week, one of the aides called Hubby and said Mother-in-Law wanted to get out of bed and go to breakfast in the cafeteria in her wheelchair. Then, she wanted to go for lunch. We were thrilled and after we both got home after dinner that evening, we went to see her. I went straight to her room, while Hubby filled the bird feeder outside her window, her only source of entertainment, or at least it used to be her only source. When I walked into her room, she was dozing in bed but looked up as I neared the bed, just as she usually does. I sat in the only chair with my back to the window so she could see me and the birds while we talked.
She looked at me as if she were surprised to see me. I don't go see her every day like Hubby, but I do see her every few days. She looked really sad and told me, "I guess I wasn't on the list."
"What list?" I figured I must have missed something from Hubby's visit the day before.
"At the gate. I didn't get in."
Just about then, Hubby walked into the room and sat in her wheelchair on the opposite side of the bed. She turned to him. "I must not be in the bad place either."
Hubby looked at her and then me with a quizzical look on his face, and I shrugged back at him with an equally quizzical look on mine. "What are you talking about mom?"
A tear rolled down her cheek. "I didn't get into heaven. But I don't smell my skin burning so I guess I didn't go to the bad place either." She chuckled at her joke.
Hubby asked her if it wasn't a little early to be worrying about that, and she mumbled something that sounded like she had died that morning. She was talking softly and her dentures didn't seem to fit quite right, but the gist of it is that she had been wandering around all morning trying to find out where she was. She asked us if she was in heaven, and Hubby told her no, that she was still alive and in the nursing home. She said no, that she was not alive, that she knew she had died that morning, but she didn't know why we could see her, unless we had died too. Hubby went on to tell her that we were all alive and asked if she remembered going to the cafeteria that morning.
"No, I didn't go to the cafeteria. I cooked breakfast and Aunt Flora came over for lunch, (Aunt Flora died forty or fifty years ago), then I drove to the store. (She hadn't driven in a couple of years and finally sold her car last year.) If I'm not too tired, I'm going to cook supper tonight."
I asked her where she cooked breakfast and she pointed to her closet. When she started playing with something above the bed that we couldn't see, we told her good night and went to find the nurse.
The next day, she told Hubby's cousin that she had been buried alive for four days to which the cousin replied, "I'm sure glad you managed to get out." What else do you say to someone who's been buried alive?
Despite doctor approval and our encouragement, my mother-in-law hasn't gotten out of her nursing home bed since February. After being in the hospital for a week at the end of January, and soaking up all the attention there, she didn't want to go back to the nursing home. Then, when the doctor indicated that she would continue to have problems and soon be back in the hospital again, she decided to quit taking all her medications and just pass away. She did have to go back to the hated nursing home, but she agreed to go only because she didn't have to stay there long before the end came. The doctor predicted she would have five days. So she didn't feel the need to get out of bed for the event.
Then a funny thing happened. She started feeling better. She stopped complaining about everything, she started smiling again, and she even joked around with us. But she was still wouldn't get out of bed.
I think she didn't want to be standing up when it happened. She wouldn't roll over in bed either. She wanted to be lying on her back, with her eyes closed, and hands folded over her chest, like in the old movies. Let me tell you, during those first few days, it was pretty unnerving to walk into her room, see her pallid remains, and realize that she had passed on during her nap. Both Hubby and I had a couple of moments when our breath caught in our throats, tears started welling up, and then she opened her eyes and scared the crap out of us.
But last week, one of the aides called Hubby and said Mother-in-Law wanted to get out of bed and go to breakfast in the cafeteria in her wheelchair. Then, she wanted to go for lunch. We were thrilled and after we both got home after dinner that evening, we went to see her. I went straight to her room, while Hubby filled the bird feeder outside her window, her only source of entertainment, or at least it used to be her only source. When I walked into her room, she was dozing in bed but looked up as I neared the bed, just as she usually does. I sat in the only chair with my back to the window so she could see me and the birds while we talked.
She looked at me as if she were surprised to see me. I don't go see her every day like Hubby, but I do see her every few days. She looked really sad and told me, "I guess I wasn't on the list."
"What list?" I figured I must have missed something from Hubby's visit the day before.
"At the gate. I didn't get in."
Just about then, Hubby walked into the room and sat in her wheelchair on the opposite side of the bed. She turned to him. "I must not be in the bad place either."
Hubby looked at her and then me with a quizzical look on his face, and I shrugged back at him with an equally quizzical look on mine. "What are you talking about mom?"
A tear rolled down her cheek. "I didn't get into heaven. But I don't smell my skin burning so I guess I didn't go to the bad place either." She chuckled at her joke.
Hubby asked her if it wasn't a little early to be worrying about that, and she mumbled something that sounded like she had died that morning. She was talking softly and her dentures didn't seem to fit quite right, but the gist of it is that she had been wandering around all morning trying to find out where she was. She asked us if she was in heaven, and Hubby told her no, that she was still alive and in the nursing home. She said no, that she was not alive, that she knew she had died that morning, but she didn't know why we could see her, unless we had died too. Hubby went on to tell her that we were all alive and asked if she remembered going to the cafeteria that morning.
"No, I didn't go to the cafeteria. I cooked breakfast and Aunt Flora came over for lunch, (Aunt Flora died forty or fifty years ago), then I drove to the store. (She hadn't driven in a couple of years and finally sold her car last year.) If I'm not too tired, I'm going to cook supper tonight."
I asked her where she cooked breakfast and she pointed to her closet. When she started playing with something above the bed that we couldn't see, we told her good night and went to find the nurse.
The next day, she told Hubby's cousin that she had been buried alive for four days to which the cousin replied, "I'm sure glad you managed to get out." What else do you say to someone who's been buried alive?
It would be hard not to chuckle. Just saying. Who knows what kinds of things we see and hear near the end. I can remember my mother in law saying and doing some weird things too.
ReplyDeleteHave a fabulous day, Marti. ♥
Marti - we went through a phase with my Mom when she would say out loud that she was ready to go (die). It was hard to take. In the end, (with some encouragement from her children), she told her GP that she was depressed. The resulting anti-depressants made all the difference. Five years later, she is a 90-year-old Energizer bunny! I hope that you and your hubby are coping well with this - not for the faint of heart!
ReplyDeleteIt's hard to cope with that kind of things with people near the end. We think of you and hubby. Purrs
ReplyDeleteI cared for my Mom at home until the end. The last few weeks had lots of changes that were more scary to me than her. Looking back I should have had a calmer demeanor rather than let her see my worry. Even so, it was a gentle passing in her own bed. - Margy
ReplyDeleteThis is so sad but I had to chuckle at the end. How could you not? Was she a character in her younger days?
ReplyDeleteJust found out I can easily post again - Google must have made some more changes - again.
ReplyDeleteI may have missed this if you hypothesized this - but could your MIL be showing dementia? That guess is so easy to make by simply reading this, and I may be way off base. But my dad would often be detached from reality. Regardless, good luck to you both dealing with her. At least she is wanting to get up again.
Marti: We went through the same thing with my Father in law, he swore he was at a football game everyday, or at Perkins eating pancakes.
ReplyDeleteIt is hard but a little funny when hearing these things.
I hope she is doing better, medications can play with your mind.
Hugs
Catherine
Well I guess you appreciate the good part of her getting up and around, and just deal with the other stuff. That has to be a bit hard on Your Guy though.
ReplyDelete