The Show Must Go On

I woke up this morning with a horrible stomach ache caused by my worrying how mom was going to feel about the priest’s visit today.  All weekend I dreaded meeting with the priest to give mom last rites. Although leaving mom on Friday, she was at peace and comforted with the thought about heaven; last rites seemed too final.  Hence the word ‘last’.

I stopped at Portillo’s before visiting mom to bring her a beef sandwich that we could split.  My intention was to arrive much earlier than the priest so I would have an opportunity to tell mom about his upcoming visit and his purpose.   When Mom saw me, she was shaking her head no.  I could not imagine why unless she was not in the mood for a beef sandwich.

“Julienne, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Hi mom, I am not sure I understand.”

“I thought I was supposed to die already.  No one should have to wait like this.”

“You’re confusing me mom.”  Now I was really concerned; how I was going to explain I had a priest coming to give her last rites.

“I just want to go if it is my time to go.  I’m not sure what I am waiting for.  Everyone here is looking at me, waiting for me to die.”

No one can figure out how the last few days my mother is all of a sudden a chatter box.  She is saying one complete sentence after another when on prior days she mumbled or had partial thoughts.

“No one is looking at you and waiting for you to die.  Everyone sitting around here is sick.  Some are so much weaker than you.   You had a very bad day last Thursday; we all thought your time was close.  I know you did, too.”

“Julienne, is the whole family coming today?  Is today the day?” 

“Mom, I have no idea nor does anyone else know only God knows that day?”

Just then Dana* the hospice nurse came over.  “Hi, Gilda, how are you today?”

“How am I supposed to be?”

Dana* said, “What do you mean?”

“Mom thinks she was supposed to die last week.  She is not sure what she is waiting for and she thinks that everyone is looking at her waiting for her to die.”

“Oh my, Gilda no one knows when any one of us is going to die.”

“I thought I was sick?”

“You were very sick last week, but you are doing better now aren’t you?”

“I’m weak.  I’m ready.”

“You still have to wait till God’s ready for you.”

“How will I know?”

“God will let you know.”

“How does He call me?”

“Mom, He does not actually call.  You will just know.” 

 “Julienne, one lady told me downstairs they have beautiful birds here.  Take me to see the birds.”

“I am happy to take you, mom, we will go eat lunch first. You have already seen them many times when you were downstairs.”

“I don’t remember. Did you bring that food for me? I’m not hungry.   ”

“I stopped at Portillo’s before I came here. I thought you might want to share a beef sandwich with me.”

“OK, let’s go. Whatever, you want to do.”   I asked mom’s nurse for a wheelchair to make transporting mom easier, then I asked Dana* if she would join me when the priest came to visit mom.  She agreed.

Mom and I ate in the Garden Room.  She ate half of the beef sandwich and some of the French fries, as well as, a root beer.   I explained to mom that I had invited a priest from St. Thomas the Apostle to visit her today and give her the anointing of the sick blessing.  I mentioned that today he would join us when we were saying our prayers.

Her answer to me was, “Whatever . . . Come on Julienne;  let’s go see the birds.”

Off we went down the corridor where mom spent many months when she first moved into The Community*.   Mom saw one of the nurses who she knew and was very happy to see her.  “She was one of the good ones.”

“Mom, there are a lot of great nurses on this floor, too.”

When I turned into the TV room, mom saw the huge wall birdcage.  “Oh, I remember now.  I used to love to come here and look at the birds.”

 

“Right mom, see the baby bird.” 

Mom looked.  “I see the baby.”



While we were staring into the birdcage, Darla* one of mom’s favorite nurses saw mom.

“Gilda, so nice of you to come and visit, I missed you,”  she hugged mom and me.

“Thank you, I missed you, too.”

When Darla*showed mom photos of her baby boy, now 10 months old mom said, “He’s really cute.”

“Come and visit us anytime, Gilda, we love to see you.”  Before Darla* left, I took a photo of mom and her for my collection.

 

Just then the baby bird’s mother came and lay on top of him to keep him warm.  Mom was fascinated by the whole thing. 

 

When mom lived on her own in the supportive living facility, mom had a window bird house.  She used to sit for hours watching her birds out her living room window. 

 

Mom and I stayed in this TV room for a while;  we both seemed to find solace again watching the birds.