1. Morning walks. Oh, how I’ve missed them the past two weeks. It’s such an essential part of taking care of myself: the companionship and joy of a dog, being outside, the potential for a surprise around every corner, moving my body in the quiet, seeing the sun rise, feeling like we have the whole world to ourselves.

2. Tokarski Home and hospice care. The day I arrived in Oregon was the same day Mom was moved to a hospice care home. Hospice had come to assess her at the same time we were looking for a smaller facility for her to get more specialized care than we could give her at home. Hospice suspected she might only have a week or two left, and as they had a room available (we found out later this is very unusual, that they typically have a waiting list), they recommended moving her there. It was a surprise to hear that the decline we’d watched happen slowly over the past few years was progressing so rapidly, but it also confirmed that we did, in fact, need more support than we could provide her at home. 

I drove straight from the airport to Tokarski Home to see her and my brother her first day there. Mom had a big smile when she saw me. Over the next few weeks, she slept less and ate more and was more responsive than she’d been in a while. I suspect her improvement was that a UTI she’d been struggling with finally got better, she’s engaging with more people regularly (SO many visitors), has four skilled caretakers 24/7 who she adores, and she liked having me there. I talked with the head nurse, and he said her doing better than she was at home is something common enough they call it “The Tokarski Effect.” She may have more time than their original assessment of a few weeks, but she is still most likely near the end and in exactly the right spot, even if it’s for a few months instead of their initial guess.

Tokarski House is a special place, just what we all needed. It’s centrally located and allows for lots of visitors, there’s good food, we can watch the Hallmark Channel as much as we want and listen to music, and it’s close by my brother so he easily can visit but no longer has to be in charge of any caretaking, which is a huge relief. Each of the five rooms has a sliding glass door and patio where we can watch the squirrels and birds and the weather. I spent my nights at Mom’s house, which was weird, knowing she won’t ever go back there — equal parts sad, lonely, and also such a nice break after peopling all day.

One of the last days I was there, I walked in to her room and Mom said, “There’s my girl!” It was hard to leave with her still here, but I missed my tiny family, small house, little life, and it’s hard to know exactly when the real end will come. I told one of her nurses that when you make your life elsewhere, this sort of thing is one of the consequences — as Mom would so often say, “it is what it is.” I am at peace knowing Mom’s surrounded by her family and friends and getting the best care possible. 

3. Little, easy comforts. Watching The Office, other people’s dogs, eating ice cream for dinner, hashbrowns with ketchup, sitting around talking and making each other laugh, holding hands, naps, texting with Eric, sending each other pictures, listening to podcasts in the rental car.

4. My brother. This past year and a half, starting with caring for Dad in his final months at home with the help of hospice, and then Mom’s stroke, her resulting decline and dementia diagnosis and ongoing need for care was A LOT, and Chris took on the bulk of it. There’s really no way to ever sufficiently thank someone for that, but hopefully he knows how grateful we all are and how much he’s loved and that it’s okay to rest now.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. I’ve been away a lot in the past year and a half, but this trip was the longest Eric and I have ever been apart in 31 years, and I was so ready to come home, am so glad to be here.

Bonus joy: lounging in the backyard with Ringo and Eric, things starting to bloom, safe and easy travels, all the love and care people have been sending, Ringo asleep on the dog bed under my writing desk, how happy he was to see me when I got back, hugs in the kitchen, home cooked food, my own bed, a warm shower, a big glass of clean cold water, getting to see so many family and friends I don’t get to see that often, old pictures, flannel sheets, down blankets and pillows, KIND nut clusters, Mom’s smile, all the goodies people brought Mom that I got to share, Hawaiian pizza, sunshine, rest, practice, Burgerville, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.

Kind and gentle reader. *sigh* I am sitting at my computer, making plans and canceling appointments and sending texts and taking the occasional break to cry. My brother and I have actively been looking for a placement for our mom as her care requirements have increased and we felt like we needed more support. After getting turned down by one spot last week, we had recently started over, but this time looking for a smaller place with more focused care. We’d narrowed it down to two homes, each with only five residents, 24/7 care, and both with an open room. 

We’d also decided it might be time to get help from hospice, (to qualify for hospice, a person is considered to have no more than six months left to live). They were so good to us and such a help when Dad was dying. Mom had lost her ability to stand or use the bathroom on her own or take a regular seated shower in the past few months, and just recently in the past few weeks, she’s been sleeping a lot more, needing help eating, can only eat soft food, is talking much less — essentially needed help with everything.

After two assessments and visits from hospice, it was determined today that she most likely only has a week or two left with us. Even though he saw her decline directly, my brother was surprised to hear she was so close, as was I. One of the homes we’d already been considering is run by the hospice company and is focused on end of life care. Mom will be moving there in the morning. We’ve been advised that we don’t need to give her any more of her regular meds and can stop feeding her unless she requests it. I knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

I’ll be flying to Oregon in the morning to spend her final days with her. Understandably, I don’t plan on doing any blogging in the meantime. I’m not sure when I’ll be back or how soon I’ll feel like posting. May we all have a life full of love and an easy death.

*sigh*