Mum - its been two years now

Today, it has been two years since mum passed but I still think of her every day. Sounds silly because I'm a grown woman but I feel like an orphan. That last person you know who will undoubtedly and unconditionally love you forever, gone.

August 2015 with an Oxygen Tank at home now

Mothers Day 2014

Unlike my Dad who was struck with a massive heart attack, Mum's demise was slow and painful. 

Diagnosed with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) or the more familiar condition Emphysema. They gave her 4 years. She lasted 5.

There were her countless daily medications. 

The immunosuppressant Prednisone, Morphine for pain, Ventolin to ease the airways, Bactrim to ward off infection and Seroquel for depression and more..

On occasion, all this was not enough. Her lungs would collapse and we had to call the ambulance. 

She'd have interesting reactions to certain drugs. Hallucinating about being surrounded by angels then whispering to me that we had to get rid of her phone because the police were tracking her calls. We'd have to find another drug.

Constricted airways caused light-headedness.  On a trip to get plants for her prized garden, she lost consciousness and fell onto concrete crushing her wrist and breaking her arm. The bones had been deprived of all necessary nutrients and were as brittle and fragile as that of an 89 year old. She was 63.

Doc ultrasounds the heart one last time

Her walking became pained as it caused her chest to tighten, breathing became a struggle and a coughing spasm ensued. She became reclusive as it was easier than going through all of this.

Her lung capacity declined eventually to just 11%.

Her beautiful handwriting became illegible. Carefully constructed lettering morphed into scribble. 

Unable any longer to hold two needles to knit the cabled jumpers she loved so much, she resorted to crocheting blankets. She received immense pleasure from creating these items that the retirement village store would sell to raise money for charity.  

Paper thin skin

There was a gradual loss of appetite until finally her organs began to fail.

The one thing that I will never forget is the rank, wretched odour.

In the end she just wanted to go.

The specialists, doctors and nurses gathered around her bed and told her that this was it, she accepted it, took a breath, sighed and held my hand.

She was moved to Palliative Care. 

The nurse brought in the morphine kit. Mum's sister Kay and I were on either side of the bed. Mum held our hands, lifted them up then placed them back on the bed and said, "Well, this is it". She thought they were going to put her down like a dog.

Of course, they did not. They administered morphine on a regular basis plus an additional dosage as required. The process was meant to last 3 days but it went on for a week. 

Washed over with a mix of emotions, I didn't quite know how to react when the end finally came. I was glad she was at peace and no longer suffering but sad I no longer had my mum.

About The Author

Nina Beilby is a professional photographer and photography educator based in Chatswood, Sydney, Australia. You can see more of her work at www.ninabeilby.com.au. 

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