CHAPTER 74 Morphine, Straight Up

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copyright 2017 Chris Smith  All rights reserved.

"Heart breaking moments and lost opportunities."

@RantingsOfaGirl


Me: The Doc concurs with Dad. Her body is telling us its had enough. She is not going to recover. We can put her on meds and stop feeding her.

Bro: :[[[[[[[[[[[[


The Hospice social worker, Sam, showed up a few hours later. I peeked inside to check on Mom one more time, and went back outside on the brick patio to meet with her and Dad.

"How are you guys doing?" Sam asked.

"We're hanging in there," Dad said.

Sam was genuine with her concern for us. I liked her compassion.

"And how's your wife?" Sam asked.

"I think we're at the point where we need to start giving her the morphine. She's in too much pain. We're having to turn her every few hours and she's so uncomfortable," Dad said.

Then he started to get upset. His emotions were like arrows shot right into my heart. I wanted to run from them. It was too much to feel his emotions on top of mine. I was weighted down already with too many as it was. It killed me to see him in pain. The tears wouldn't stop rolling down my face...again.

Everything hurt so fucking much. Every piece of me was in pain. I was finding it hard to find a sliver of peace.

Another car drove up. It was Mom's nurse, Lucy. I got up and went back inside to check on Mom. I walked over to Mom's bed. She smiled when she saw me. It was the little things that moved me now, like seeing her face light up when she saw me, or watching a smile spread across her lips.

After all these years, I was still the little girl asking for her Mother's love. I wanted to crawl in bed with her and lose myself in a dream world where the hand of death couldn't reach us. A world where there was no Reaper. A world where love conquered all and miracles were handed out like pennies. I wanted to stay there forever with her lost in all the love we never shared and rebuild all those bridges we burned down between us. But I knew of no such place and we were out of time.

When I went back outside Lucy was sitting down talking to my Dad.

Lucy said, "And I know how you feel about giving her medications. But she's in pain now. We want her to be comfortable and not have to suffer."

Lucy talked for another five minutes or so about how it was time to give Mom the medications. She was trying to convince us.

Blah blah blah.

I was getting hot under the collar. I understood where Lucy was coming from. But I rolled my eyes every time. We weren't going to pump Mom full of medications just because we could. Period. The end. Thank you for playing.

I wanted to scream at her so hard that it burned a hole into her small minded thinking, "WE AREN'T GOING TO PUMP HER FULL OF MEDICATIONS SO SHUT THE FUCK ABOUT IT ALREADY!"

"Lucy, we just talked about that and they're ready to give her the morphine," Sam said.

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much better I feel," Lucy said.

Well, I didn't feel any better. I felt worse. I wanted to throw up and crawl into a hole at the same time.

Maybe I could throw up first and then crawl into a hole?

"She held on much longer than she should have, you know. She held on for you guys," Lucy said.

Yeah. She fucking did. She fucking rocked it much longer because of her love for us, and our love for her. She'd humored us I think by staying a tad longer.

"And you don't want her to suffer," Lucy said.

I don't know why people have to say shit like that. It doesn't help. No sir. Not at all. It does not help one bit.

No. We didn't want her to suffer. Of course we didn't. It was the worst feeling ever watching her be so uncomfortable. We'd driven right through the eternal fucking fires watching her body waste away. We'd been tearing out our own hearts and offering them to be sliced up on the butcher's block. Every. Fucking. Day.

But we also didn't want her to fucking die. There was no undoing death. Suffering might be able to be changed.

But death?

I'm pretty sure death was undoable. It was a "No Do-Overs" zone.

We said goodbye to Sam, and turned our attention to Lucy for her weekly check on Mom.

Lucy said to Dad, "I hope you're not going to do anything."

There were huge undertones in her words.

Sure thing Lucy. Whatever.

The truth was, if we needed to help Mom along on the road of death, we were going to. Simple as that. We weren't going to sit here and watch this go on for weeks. Mom wouldn't want that, and I'm not sure we could take it emotionally. We'd taken so much already.

"Let me show you how to give the morphine," Lucy said.

"I'm going to take a walk," Dad said.

Great. Wonderful. Dad's checking out of the moment and I get to give her the very thing that's going to help her die. Of course as fate would have it, it has to be me. Me, who doesn't even like medications, who doesn't even take medications, and has never wanted Mom to be on any, has to be the one. Me, who thinks the pharmaceutical companies can go fuck themselves along with a lot of the medical doctors too. Me, who doesn't even take aspirin.

How fucking ironic is that?

Lucy pulled the liquid morphine out of the emergency bag of medications Hospice had insisted we have on stand-by at all times. The morphine was in a small glass container. It looked harmless, like water. But it wasn't water. It was death in a bottle as far as I was concerned and I was about to put my hands around it.

It should be paired with an infamous skull and crossbones logo shot glass. Then I could pour it into the shot glass and sing out, "TO THE DEATH!", at every serving.

"What I do is put it all the way, and fill it up full, and push it out until I get the dosage I want. And here's where we're going start her," Lucy said.

It was the bare minimum or basic starting dosage I guess. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Darkness had come to lay claim on my Mom and I would be serving her up on platter.

I needed to text my Brother. He should know the path had changed. He should know we were on a road there would be no coming back from.

Death would come for all of us.

But Mom was first.

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