Final Messages after Mom's Death Was Finally Acknowledged

Wednesday, October 12, 2011 9:05 a.m.

            Mom’s passing (which seems like the right word rather than a euphemism) was between 12:45 and 1:15 this morning after her death, which was probably on Saturday.  I’ve e-mailed Jeff and Dennis about my reason for not being in class today, I’ve talked to Karl, and called and e-mailed Becky with a cc to Jamie.  Suzy asked me that I write to tell her about the hours after she left, which I’ll do now.  Then I’ll start the obituary. 

(to my son)

 

Dear Jonathan,

                I hesitated to call you at 1:15 a.m., when it was official.  But your Nani stopped breathing at about 12:45 and the nurse considered it “official” at 1:15.  She really never regained consciousness after Saturday evening as far as we know, but it was good to see her calm, without all the tubes, the last 10 hours we were with her.

                We’ll talk more about how much we love her later!

                Love,

                Mom

 (to my older sister)

Dear Dana,

                Mom stopped breathing around 12:45 this morning.  I really don’t think she ever regained consciousness after Saturday, but it was good to see her calm, without all the tubes, the last 10 hours we were with her.

                I hope you can be here for the memorial service, which we’ll probably have the weekend we were planning to have her 90^th birthday celebration.

                Love,

                Tina

(to Mom's partner of 40 years)

 

Dear Kathy,

                I’m going to cut classes and think about Mom and you, contact Becky and the others, and begin the obituary.  I’ll tell family that we think the memorial will be Saturday, October 22 or Sunday, October 23.

                But what I really want to say is I’ll say in a hand-written note—maybe one on a Morning Glory card.  You’ve been wonderful—the kind of partner Mom deserved!

                Love,

                Tina

 (to my teacher of Comparative Religions)

Dear Jeff,       

            I see that I've been sending messages to the wrong e-mail.  What an inattentive student I am not to have paid closer attention to your first-day handout!

            Anyway, I won't be in class today because my mother died this morning after an accident that occurred just a couple of hours after my last (misdirected) message to you.  She never regained consciousness at John Muir Hospital, where she was given Hyperthermia Treatment.  (I'm giving you these details because I know you have an eighty-year-old father, and these details may matter some day.  We were just two weeks from my mother's 90th birthday celebration.)  In keeping with her wishes (wisely expressed in an Advance Care Health Directive), we had a meeting with the Palliative Care Committee and took out all the tubes so we could be with her and imagine that she had a peaceful passing. 

            I'm staying home today to think about her, contact family members, and begin the obituary.  I'll probably be in class on Friday.

            Tina

PS  I'm sorry for leaving the first exclamation point, but the sentence begins with an exclamatory word! 

(to my teacher of Western Civilization)

 

Dear Dennis,

                Last Saturday my mother—just two weeks before her 90^th birthday celebration—choked on something and was taken to John Muir Hospital, where she never regained consciousness.

  Yesterday we had a meeting with Palliative Care and withdrew her from all the tubes, as was Mom’s wish expressed in an Advance Health Care Directive.  I was with her early this morning at the time of her passing—a word that seems truer and less euphemistic here than it sometimes does!

                Anyway, I’m going to stay home to contact family members and begin her obituary.  Like your mother (who I’m glad is doing well), my mother was a remarkable person, so even though I’m sorry to miss your class and Jeff’s, I like the hours reflecting on her.

                Tina 

(To the oldest daughter of my sister Missy, who died in 1995)

Dear Becky,

                I called you this morning and left a message, but since I’m not 100% sure that you still get messages at that number (931) 242-0242, I’ll try this way, too.

                Please call me so I can speak to you in person.  Even though I hate telephones, I love you and your sisters!

                Love,

                Tina

It’s 10:04, and I just got the message off to Suzy after talking to Becky on the phone.

(to my younger sister)

 

Dear Suzy,

            I’m glad we had the chance to be together during these past few days.  I’m grateful for your mentioning W;t, which seems so relevant—not in terms of Vivian Bearing’s personality, totally different from Mom’s, but just because it dealt with death and DNR/No Code!-- and it was good to have Mom in such a great hospital—“Divine Intervention,” as Kathy suggested.  I’ve been thinking that when we were talking to Cindy of Pastoral Care and naming the hymns that Mom knew (and she and Nan would sing on road trips with Kathy!), it was kind of like telling jokes by numbers and laughing at the funny ones.  Each time we named a hymn, it was like singing it.  I also liked the little lullaby chimes that came through from mothers who’d just given birth as we were facing Mom’s ordeal, which might have ended for her on Saturday night.  Just the same, I think the word “passing” is appropriate rather than euphemistic for what happened with her this morning.  I’m glad we all got to see her with the tubes removed even though she didn’t look like Mom to me then, either. 

            So, let’s see.  Were you there when the RN Elaine came by?  Maybe not because I think you left around 6:00, and Holly left at 7:00.  Elaine was the next nurse, and she was wearing a mask because of allergies.  She started upping the dosages of morphine. Then another hospitalist, Lavinia Herbei, came by and was maybe a bit more frank than the nurses could ever be.  Maybe this is true of the hospitalists in general.  They’re doctors, of course, and that gives them the authority.  But just as Dr. Gitter was the first to say, “It’s sad, but…” this hospitalist Dr. Herbei said, “You made a tough choice, but I think you made the right choice” or something like that.    I don’t think we felt so conflicted about that, taking her off of artificial life-support when she wasn’t really alive in any meaningful way.  

            Mom’s breathing slowed down and came to a complete stop around 12:45 a.m., and Kathy and I spoke to her and RN Elaine checked her heart and said it was still beating, so she didn’t turn off the machines delivering the morphine until 1:15.  Then I called you, said a final good-bye to Mom just in case she was within hearing distance, hugged Kathy, and came back to San Francisco.  I e-mailed Jonathan and Dana with a cc to Karl and Erik. 

            I talked to Karl this morning, and I left a message for Dana, who had left a message on my phone.  Apparently she thought there had been some change before our meeting with the palliative care committee, but I think that was cleared up when she spoke to you after leaving the message.   I also talked with Becky this morning, and she in turn will talk to Jamie and Megan.  Kathy says Mom has enough money to pay for their flights out here.

            I’m going to begin the obituary now, and I’ll show it to you and Kathy as soon as it’s in rough draft form.

            Love,

            Tina