Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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The Lie I Told My Dying Mother

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mom pumpkin.png

My mother stopped eating during the third week of October 2014. After decades of physical and mental suffering, she used her last bit of control to decide her destiny. She wanted to go home and find peace in the valley.

Mom lived in an assisted living facility for five years. She was confined to a wheelchair after a series of accidents that resulted in a broken hip and a broken back. The loss of independence led to a slow slide into dementia. We applied name tags on family photographs that lined the walls in her tiny room; but soon she stopped trying to identify her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

mom wheelchair

After she stopped eating and became too weak to get out of bed, I consulted with the gentle people from Hospice. As her designated power of attorney over health care, I followed Mom’s wishes to withhold life-saving measures. She rested beneath her hand-stitched quilt as kind people swabbed her mouth with damp cloth, and we played her favorite spiritual music. Outside her room, other residents shuffled past in a silent tribute.

mom hands on quilt

After several days, her breathing became raspy but she heart was too strong to stop. One afternoon my daughter Emily and I were sitting with her when we were visited by Jackie Holland, the senior minister from the Center for Spiritual Living, the church my daughter attended. She asked if we could pray together, and we agreed.

“She’s refusing to go because she’s still waiting for my older brother to come,” I said. “He’s not coming. He hasn’t visited her in twenty years.”

Holland motioned for me to follow her into the hall.

“Your mother senses your moods,” she said. “She doesn’t want you to remain angry.”

At first, I resented her remark. She didn’t know Mom or me, and our story was too complicated and painful to explain in the hallway as she was dying. But, I was struck by her words: “She doesn’t want you to remain angry.” Of course, my mother would want me to be happy. So, I decided to lie to her.

We returned to her bedside, and I knelt to hold her. I said clearly, “This is Elaine. Everyone is happy. Tom is fine. George is doing well. Your grandkids and I are happy, and we love you so much. Now it’s time to be with Dad. It’s time to let go.”

stained glass window

She passed away a few hours later, leaving a hole in my heart that will never fill. My children Emily and Adam spoke at her funeral, and I’ve never been prouder of them. My older brother didn’t attend, but I wasn’t angry. At the end of the service, bright sunlight broke through the clouds and shined through stained glass windows she had commissioned for the church years earlier. Light filled the sanctuary, and we felt at peace.

Someday I hope to see her presence again. I suspect she’ll say, “I knew you were lying, but that’s okay. Now, please get your hair out of your face.” Then we’ll laugh.

 

 

Midlife Cabernet – Waiting for the Prize Patrol

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I recently visited my mother in her assisted living facility, and she was sitting in her wheelchair looking at a copy of ESPN Magazine.

“Studying for the Super Bowl?” I asked.

“No,” she responded. “I don’t like sports.”

I noticed the stack of magazines on her table. FORBES. MENS HEALTH. EBONY. JET. YOGA TODAY. ELLE.

“Have you been taking your medications, Mom?” I asked, wondering about her sudden interest in all things young and masculine.

“I don’t like those magazines,” she answered. “I’m waiting for my prize.”

She wheeled over to her dresser and pulled out a large envelope stuffed with “official” letters and postcards from the Office of the Sr. Vice President of PUBLISHERS CLEARING HOUSE announcing that she was in the Winners Circle! Yes, she only had a limited time to return the card with the Official Authorization Code to be eligible to collect her millions in prizes! But, the time-sensitive message was urgent! “The next step is up to you!” screamed the bold text highlighted in bright yellow. “You could be just days away from winning! Respond today!!!!!” And, of course, it wouldn’t hurt to subscribe to some of these magazines….

My mother had dutifully written notes on each and every letter: day received, amount of check enclosed, day check mailed. She already had subscribed to most of the women’s magazines, including Cooking (she doesn’t have a kitchen), and Oprah (empowerment has never been part of her lifestyle). I tallied up the orders, and she had paid for 32 magazine subscriptions, some of them until 2016. And, there was no Prize Patrol pounding on her door.

My mother is not stupid, just frail. She’s a Depression-era woman who knows the value of a penny, and thirty years ago she helped my father manage several large businesses. In her defense, I know that she grew up in a time when women took oaths to “obey,” and they believed every official-looking document they received. The evil hucksters at PCS know how to manipulate these innocent people, but the fraud they are committing against the elderly should be labeled a criminal offense.

I’m trying to get the subscriptions cancelled, but that’s almost as difficult as winning anything. I’m thinking about staging an event to have some people show up at her door with balloons and a big (worthless) check. I really want her to get a prize.

I took home some of the magazines (along with her checkbook) and opened a bottle of 2008 Catena Malbec. I found this spicy, full-bodied wine for only $22 at Seasons Wine Bar in Eagle. It pairs nicely with a copy of Fortune Magazine…..

Midlife Cabernet – Tossing Out the Guilt Garbage

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Humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote that guilt was the gift that keeps on giving. I no longer want this gift because it makes me crabby, unproductive, and resentful when I prefer to be sparkling, positive, and somewhat creative. So I intend to scamper to the top of this heavy pile of baggage, raise my liberated, wrinkled arms to the sky, and declare with gusto: Guilt be gone!

I started carrying bags of guilt when I returned to work full-time and my children, ages two and five, went to 10 hours of child care five days a week. Back in the pioneer days of Women in Management, businesses did not offer flex time, or time off for birthday parties at school, or tolerance for sick children. “Suck it up and get to work” was the prevailing philosophy.

I started to shed the guilt when my darling children went off to college, just about the same time my widowed mother’s health began to decline. She lived alone for twenty years before I moved her to an assisted living facility in Boise. After each visit, she would sit in her wheelchair in the doorway of her apartment and wave until I was out of sight. The baggage came back.

To preserve what remains of my eroding sanity, I refuse to pick up the bags again. I take comfort in knowing that my children are wonderful young adults who are making the world a better place. They are happily married, and their homes are full of love. We see my mother more than ever, and we include her in our family activities. So, get behind me Guilt because I’m not going to carry your bags anymore. Now my biggest garbage will consist of empty wine bottles.

To celebrate my enlightened decision, I opened a bottle of 2009 Charles Krug Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley. Its smooth taste includes black currants, raspberries, and a hint of cocoa. It sells for $25 at Alberstons, and now Preferred Customers receive a $3 discount. Better stock up…

Midlife Cabernet: Keeper of the DNR File

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The call comes at any hour: “Your mother is in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.” I grab the DNR File and go, anticipating that she will survive the latest calamity just as she has for the past 86 years. Her mind and body are frail but her heart is strong, and her determination to live should be studied for medical research because she’ll outlive all of us.

I use dark humor as my own survival technique, so accept my apology if this seems offensive. Only daughters of invalid parents can understand the experience of being the Keeper of the DNR File, a responsibility I willing, respectfully accepted 24 years ago. But sometimes, when I’m speeding away with The File, I yell at the universe because she has suffered too much and I can’t do anything except carry the instructions that prove she has chosen Do Not Resuscitate.

If you are designated as the Keeper of the DNR File, that means you’re probably the only daughter. Somehow sons aren’t willing or able to assume the responsibilities. Here is what you’ll need:

1. A POST Document – the Idaho Physician Orders for Scope of Treatment – that outlines what lifesaving procedures the patient wants. The form is signed in advance by the patient and a doctor and includes choices from Allow Natural Death to Use Aggressive Intervention. There should be an additional category for Survivors of the Great Depression. These people redefine the human capacity for survival.
2. A copy of the Living Will designating you at the Power of Attorney over Health Care. This role can lead you to drink. More.
3. A photo identification of the patient. My mother no longer drives – there was that unfortunate incident when she drove through the garage wall – but you can get a non-driver, photo ID at the Department of Motor Vehicles. If you have any problems at the DMV, just threaten to leave your mother sitting there in her wheelchair and walk away. Works every time.
4. A detailed inventory of all medications including doses. This list will cause you to throw down your plate of maple bars and enroll in multiple exercise programs while you still have time.
5. Copies of health insurance information including Social Security number, Medicaid number, and any supplemental insurance details. Then toss in some medications (chocolate, vodka) for yourself because it can be a bumpy ride.
For my mother’s DNR file, I also include some spiritual music because she likes it and because it keeps me from dissolving into a puddle of mush when she revives and doesn’t know who I am or why I’m there. That’s when I pray for an extra jolt of my mother’s tenacity for me because I’m dangerously close to jumping out of the hospital’s top floor window.

Last month my mother suffered a stroke and we got all the way to POST Section C: No Feeding tube. No IV fluid. No Antibiotics. The Hospice staff told me she had 72 hours to live and to make funeral arrangements so I did. Then after 50 hours without food or water she opened her eyes and said, “Hi!” Cue spiritual music. Avoid the windows.

Each calamity is traumatic. Over the past 16 years there have been serious car accidents, a broken back, a broken hip and other broken bones, severe falls which resulted in concussions, and numerous bruises, stitches, slurring of words, bouts of pneumonia, dementia issues, and several stays in various rehabilitation facilities. It truly breaks my heart to see her in these situations, and all I can do is hold her hand, play music, read to her, and just be there. Several times the medical staff has counseled me in hushed tones that she wouldn’t live. I usually chuckle and say, “Just watch.”

I don’t mean to be flippant about my mother’s health. As I explained, I use humor to cope with stressful situations. When my own DNR File is passed to my children, I will include special instructions: If I can’t have any quality of life, put a red clown nose on my nose, pull the plug, and enjoy a grand party with abundant music, laughter, and chocolate. And, don’t forget the Cabernet.

Today’s blog is fueled by a 2010 Duckhorn Merlot from Napa Valley. It’s this month’s selection from the Wine Club at Crush Wine Bar in Eagle. This delicious blend of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon provides the perfect anecdote to any stressful situation. Taxi cabs are available.