I wrote this over 2 days and it represents what was going through my mind at the time. I am no writer but I need to get this off my chest. Hopefully it's not too dark.
Early in the morning of Feb 5th I got the call to watch my mother die.
We surrounded her bed perched like vultures waiting for the inevitable. Death was never in doubt, there would be no miracles, no happy ending, no quality of life. All was pre-ordained. For the last eight years we had watched dementia take all that we knew was my mother. The woman that was my mother is long gone. Finally in the last stage she had forgotten how to swallow and and we knew the end was coming. The grim truth was we had to wait until she starved to death. It is morbid, obscene.
They tell you that she is comfortable that the drugs ease her pain but then you listen to her gasping for breath, tears running down her cheeks, face contorted, head thrown back, mouth wide open and looking out of eyes that no longer see.
There is my father, exasperated, begging her, imploring her to close her eyes and go to sleep, to end her suffering and his.
Early last week my father had to have his dog put down. He knew that there was no hope for his dog, again no happy ending. Now he's waiting for his wife to die. His dog passed quickly, quietly and pain free. Unfortunately his wife of 60 years, my mother, will not get the same consideration.
It Shouldn't have to be this way.
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