The feeding tube had left her mouth a gap.
Allowing her breath to dry, her lips and crack. I dampend the spounge on a stick and applied the moisture her lips severaly were lacking.
I had never seen her like this.
Helplessness doesn’t suit her, yet she has been wearing it for months now because of me I’m sure.
She opened her eyes.
My heart skipped a beat.
I pull from my transe of guilt and rise from my seat. “Hello.” I say wiping away any trace of tears, but no matter how hard I tried I knew I wouldn’t wipe away the fear.
I wait, watcing her reaction intently.
“Please remember me this time…” I beg her without a single word.
“Pain…” Her voice cracked..
“I’m in pain Ashley.” Her words slurred.
I push the button for the nurse and kiss her forhead. She remembers me this time!
I don’t know what to say beside, “I’m so sorry.” In shame.
15 months ago I graduated high school.... This should be the beginning, not the end.
She cried and I held her head to my chest as I brushed her hair with my fingers.
Something she taught me long ago.
Her loving gestures through my heart will always echo. She helped me survive.
She was my breathing machine.
My morphine.
My life coach.
Once medicated she fell asleep.
She left her pain for now, but the thought that in hours her pain would wake her made me weap.
There was a light knock and the curtain opended.
A lady wearing nice clothes and a gentle smile stepped forward.
“Hello Ashley, I’m Janice with St. Mary’s hospice.” "Hospice?" I ask, never hearing of it before.
She was one of many that week.
After nearly a month, mom woke up.
“I’m tired,” Her dry house voice tried to speak.
Her lips began to quiver against the feeding tube, she was so weak.
“Close your eyes and rest.” I said knowing there was a deeper meaning in her words.
She shook her heard no, tears now streaking her face. “Stop.” She croaked.
I knew she wanted to leave this place.
I pressed the button for the nurse.
“Are you ready to take the feeding tube out mom?” I asked openly, regreating every word.
She looked at me with such big eyes, so much emotion stirred.
Extreme fear, confusion, sadness, feeling I’d never seen her express.
I hated seeing her in this stranger like state.
Imagine the pressure layed upon you, to choose your fate.
In a way, I know, for my job was to figure moms wants and then make her life or death decision.
With her beautiful eyes locked on mine, she shook her head yes.
“Are you sure?” Oh how I wish I could clean up this mess.
She shook her head yes again as the nurse got another stranger. After the nurse gave her more morphine I asked for the number to St. Johns hospice.
Mom started to drift away and I left her with a kiss. They removed the feeding tube.
13 days passed.
Much longer then the doc’s thought she’d last.
No food.
No water.
The repeated question ran through my head, was I a good or bad daughter.
Regaurdless my selfish thoughts, she lay still unable to answer, she looked happier though.
She never spoke after we talked about her choice to leave, how I’d wished she said no.
I lived in complete shame.
I had lost the best part of me, without her, my body felt lame.
I had to be strong for my sister, whom I’d been left to care for.
I was her stone.
I then lived as a stone.
Brainless, emotionless, cold. How would she have felt to see me living like this….
It would **** her, the thought lingered like a poisonous kiss.
I had to live again. I have to live for the both of us now, the way it had never been.
This is a piece of my story. My mother got a blood infection called Sepsis from an accident I hold myself respondsible for. It feels good to write about it.
