My mom died last night. UPDATE in OP 10/27

10/27/2021 : An update, and thank you...

First, thank you, to each and every one of you who've posted on this thread. It has meant so much to me.

I thought I would go though and answer each question, make individual comments, but I just can't. I don't have enough spoons (for those that know what Spoon Theory is, that will make more sense than for those that don't).

There is so much work that comes with an unexpected death in the home. Just the logistics of, well, everything. And there is just so little time to even take a breath. I feel like there are certain bits of advice that every family facing this should be given, but some that may seem TMI or just too intense. I am glad we set up arrangements with a funeral home the day before, so that after a nurse came out to pronounce my mother, we just had to call them and they came out within a couple hours.

When a person passes at home, there is a cleanup that no one warned us about, that must be done immediately. I did that. I was very grateful for the waterproof mattress cover, but perhaps I looked like a lunatic taking trashbag after trashbag of soiled & soaked linens out of the house at one AM. But it HAD to be done right then. And it was no job for my father.

To anyone who ever wondered what you should do for a grieving family:

Bring food. Seriously. Or a giftcard and send the menus with it. No one brought us food, and I have spent the past almost week ordering Chinese, hoagies, diner fare, pizza, wings, sandwiches, etc. Costly, and I had two extra people to feed that were visiting. I had zero time & energy to cook. Today will be the first meal I'm cooking.


Along those lines, just bring heavy duty paper plates, plastic cups, napkins, and plastic cutlery. And heavy duty trash bags while you're at it.

Reach out. With cards. Texts. Emails. Please don't just drop by. I can't entertain you. Text me and ask if I would like you to call me to talk, or if there would be a better time.

Reach out to me a month after, too. I'm on survival mode right now, keeping my kids and father okay.

Understand that everyone grieves so differently. I haven't cried. I am sad. I am worn. But if I let it go, I will not be strong enough to keep the household together. Some in the household sob multiple times everyday, and that's okay too. Some still laugh at things during the day, and that's also okay. Every type of grieving is okay. Don't judge it, and don't ask why someone isn't grieving a certain way.



Again, thank you Pea Friends, for being here for me. I will probably post again some time about this, or maybe just on something else too. Thank you, again.

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It doesn't feel real, and yet all too real.

On October first she was diagnosed with liver cancer.

Stage four.

Inoperable.

Terminal.

Spread throughout her body.

Last night, just days after her sixty-fourth birthday, she passed away.

I have so many emotions.

All year she's been seeing doctors, being told she has acid reflux, that she has a bacterial infection of the stomach, that she had a UTI.

Doctors that are just burnt out from the pandemic, doctors that offer telehealth instead of an in person appointment, doctors that would rather write a script and check another patient off that day's list. Trying to be seen at an ER and being told it's a 15-22 hour wait.

And how unfair for my mother, that her last year and a half was dominated by doing the right thing concerning the pandemic. Staying at home, wearing a mask, putting off plans, getting the vaccine as soon as it was offered to her age group.

She had to be literally dying to finally be seen promptly at an ER. Jaundiced, urine dark brown, ascites, the ER finally took her in and ran tests, only to tell her she had four to five months left.

Except she didn't.

She came home, determined to make the most of her time.

Then pain sent her back to the ER.

She had her abdomen drained of fluid to relieve the pressure. Gave her an IV. But then she checked out two days later, determined to live her last months as she wanted, taking day trips, relaxing, enjoying the fall.

Except she didn't.

She was already exhibiting confusion from hepatic encephalopathy when she left the hospital.

Two days after being home was her 64th birthday, but she didn't really know. She thought the flowers were beautiful. Told me that the cashmere blanket I gave her would be really good for the cold weather coming. By then she couldn't manage anything past liquids and maybe the softest of food. Her birthday cake was left untouched in the fridge.

Her last few days were nothing I would wish on my worst enemy. My job was to advocate to keep her pain free, which I did. Because of the pandemic, hospice and nurse visits are extremely limited.

Four days after her birthday, her body gave out.

Thank you for hearing me, my Pea friends. I know a lot of you are going through rough times, and I felt too exhausted to share earlier this month. But today, the first morning after, I just need to reach out.