All She Really Wanted Was to Die
My mother’s last day on this earth was a strange one that only became clear to me much later
She had just turned 76 and was in the hospital because I had taken her there — after I’d gone to her house and inadvertently interrupted her plan. I didn’t fully realize it at the time but I intuited that she was possibly trying to kill herself. In an instant of clear thinking I said, “Okay mom, this isn’t going to work because I’m here now.” Her reply was a simple, “okay.” She didn’t sound dejected either, but resigned and possibly somewhat embarrassed that I had found her out.
As she changed into the clothes she’d wear to the hospital I left her to check our the house. I decided from the clean kitchen and the empty dish drainer that she hadn’t been eating. Her fridge was almost bare and she had left her out her dog’s food which was unusual. Oh yes, I’d have to take him for boarding — again. Her pill box was empty, too, and it held a plethora of pills that had to be taken 3 times a day over a week. I know because I usually filled it for her.
A few days earlier she had told me on the phone that she wasn’t feeling good. She suggested she might have the flu, which we both knew she’d never ever had before, but at her request I stayed away. I reminded her to take her pills and she said she would.
She lived across town some 30 miles away through heavy traffic so I was never keen to make the trip.
My usual routine with her was to pop in for a visit every 7-10 days because we talked on the phone everyday. She was as self sufficient as she could be while struggling with CHF — congestive heart failure, which set in immediately after her severe heart attack 2 years earlier.
By the time I interrupted her suicide attempt she was down to the bare bones of living. She could no longer walk her dog, and her life long 60 year addiction to cigarettes was stealing what precious breath she had left. She had never even tried to stop smoking. Even after her heart attack. She had given up gardening as well as going out to lunch with what few friends she had left after her two best friends died.
At this time I was 38 so I couldn’t understand what was going on with her but when I entered my own retirement I began to understand. I now know that life continually chips away at what we’re able to do as we age. At the same time it steals our zest for staying alive, unless we find reasons and ways to fight against it. My realization that day in her home was that she had given up the fight which I had no idea how to handle.
Once in the hospital her doctor put her on IV antibiotics and breathing treatments and she slept for the most part. She never wanted the tv on. I remember thinking she looked more dead than alive as she was pale and lifeless. Her appearance was startling. I wondered how long she’d gone without food and had she gone without water too? I began to vacillate between feeling terrified for her, and feeling guilty for not caring more.
I had long had mixed emotions about my mother because she was a woman who had decided decades earlier to live outside her emotions — She had shared that life was safer and less messy that way.
A few days later her doctor came in and said they wanted to repair her failing heart valves. I was flabbergasted as she looked far too frail for heart surgery. Luckily I just happened to be there and I could tell from my mom’s reaction she didn’t care one way or the other. I had no idea what to say, or what to ask, but before the surgeon left he asked me to step out into the hall. It was then that he told me her chances of surviving the surgery were maybe 70/30 which meant 70% she wouldn’t survive and 30% she would. Shit! What do you say? He added that it might be good to get any other siblings here to see her before the surgery — I knew that said it all.
When I gave my mom this information she merely said “okay” again and I remember I wanted to shake her. After all this was a hail Mary chance for her to get back some quality of life and she was giving me another nonchalant, “okay.” No sign of fight left in her. I soon called my older sister in CA with the news and found her reaction was just as flat. In a matter of fact tone she informed me she wasn’t going to come here either for reasons I’ve forgotten but I remember she said, ‘if it looks like she’s going to die — I’ll come’. I could have punched the world!
My recollection of seeing her after the surgery in ICU was that she was pissed that she had survived. We were told the surgery was a success and that she now had a pacemaker which would keep her heart beating steadily.
When I watched her try to move in the ICU bed, I told her that her hands were in restraints because she was on a respirator and they didn’t want her to accidentally pull it out. She rolled her eyes, but not for the reasons I suspected. Two days later she did willfully pull it out.
A few days later she was moved from ICU into a room. Her brother, my uncle, and I tried repeatedly to cheer her up and we encouraged her to eat and drink, but she would have none of it. She would barely even talk to us. The nurses also told us she wasn’t even trying to get out of bed to walk, which she needed to do before they could release her.
Her final days…
She was moved once more few days later into another room that was right across from the nursing station. She was now hooked up to a heart and a breathing monitor. I was with her when they brought in a tray of food which she pushed away before she crawled back into bed after using the bathroom with the aid of a walker. I wondered briefly is she wasn’t coming around!
However, she never got out of bed again as the next morning her doctor told me she was now in kidney failure and was dying. He apologized and added it would be an easy death — whatever that meant. I remember I called her close friends and invited them to come and see her for the last time. They started arriving a short time later and one by one they went in to see her. Each of them came out and told me she didn’t say a word to them, which surprised and confused me too. My sister and her family were now flying here but that gave me no comfort. I knew they wouldn’t make it in time to find her alive.
I rarely look back on this sad desperate time but when I have it’s been with more understanding. At the time this took place I was mostly frantic, confused, sad and lost in disbelief. I had only the support of my husband because at that time none of my friends had gone through losing a parent. Although my mother wasn’t the type to share her feelings, I came to realize that she’d grown very unhappy with her life. She was probably clinically depressed, but this wasn’t diagnosed so it wasn’t treated. Thank God we know better now.
This has been very hard for me to write and I will not go back and edit it. Writing it once is more than enough. I was so depressed after she died and in so much pain that I went back to a counselor. It was through our talks that I came to realize that the reason I was hurting so much was due to the sudden break in co-dependency that I had to go through after she died, more so than heart break. I learned our relationship hadn’t been a healthy one for many years due to the emotional wall she had built around herself. Never sharing her thoughts and feelings left her acting cold and empty towards everyone who loved her. “Emotional despondency” is what doctors call it and it’s a terribly lonely state to live in. It often leads to suicidal ideation which was the state I found her in on that last day at her house. With time I learned to stop carrying any blame for how her life ended. We can only deal with what we know, not with the unknown. If someone you love exhibits any of these signs and symptoms, get help for them and for yourself. They are literally in the throes of suicide even though it won’t be obvious. Had I known then what I soon came to know, I wouldn’t have let her go through with the heart surgery. She was too far gone mentally and physically to endure something so drastic so I can only hope the doctors learned from her surgery how to better help others.
Thank you for reading and thoughtful writing everyone.