She Pushed the Button

My brother called me while visiting Mom yesterday.  She had declined going to dinner.  He was sitting in her room with her when the nurse came to check her blood sugar.  It was 47.  Hypoglycemia begins at 70 and she was well below that threshold.  Both my brother and the nurse implored her to eat something and finally she said she'd eat a PB&J.  The nurse brought it and as soon as the nurse left, Mom refused to eat the sandwich.  Desperate, my brother called me and put me on speaker.  I know that cajoling doesn't work with Mom (as her child, I am VERY aware of that), so I told her that she was in very dangerous territory and if she didn't eat the sandwich, she'd be heading to the hospital.  She reluctantly ate the sandwich.

I went to see her today at dinner time on purpose.  I wanted to see what was happening.  When I arrived, she was already at the table and when the food was set down in front of her, she glowered at it.  "I can't eat this!" she declared.  I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down 54 on it and asked her if she knew what that number was.  I had stopped to see the nurse before going to see Mom and 54 was her blood sugar - still far too low.  Mom looked and said it was the hospital number.  

"That's right.  You need to eat and bring that number up so you don't have to go to the hospital."

"I can't eat carbs!  I'm allergic to carbs!  Ask Gary (her doctor) - he'll tell you!"  A full-on tantrum was getting rolling now.  I nearly broke.  I got up from the table and walked away because my hands were itching to smack her or shake her or do something that would snap my mother back into the body that looked like her but wasn't her.  Of course, that wouldn't work and she wouldn't understand, so I got up and left.

I went to her room, which was locked after I'd put my stuff in there, so I went to get the nurse and we talked as we went back to unlock her room.  I told her that I thought she might be actively trying to die now, the only way she could.  That I wished they could let her, but I knew they had to cover their butts.  The nurse told me that her uncle did the same thing at 65 - and pulled it off.  He'd said he was tired of life.  Mom said the same thing back in rehab.  I think she really is ready to go, but nothing that's going on with her is going to kill her - except this.  I told the nurse that if she continued to refuse to eat, to send her to the hospital and let them deal with it.

The applesauce waited in my bag.  I'd brought two and took them both back to the dining room with me.  Her dinner was upside down on the table.  After I'd left, she apparently threw a fit and dumped her dinner.  I sat down next to her as if nothing had happened and asked her if she'd like some applesauce.  She allowed as she would and ate both containers.  I didn't tell her that they were carbs.  I quietly righted her plate and put the food back on it, then wiped the table, but didn't say anything to her about what I was doing.  She was peaceful again.

 After dinner, we went back to her room.  She didn't want to get in her chair or go to the bathroom, which is the usual routine.  I showed her the blouse that Dad had bought her.  She loved it.  I had washed the flannel sheets that DIL Mary had sent and put her name into them - I offered to put them on her bed since she was always cold at night.  She said no, not tonight.  So I sat in her recliner and held her hand.  She kept trying to tell me something - I needed to go and buy her six...  and her forehead knit as she tried to come up with the word for whatever it is she wanted.  We've had this conversation numerous times and she can't ever tell me six of what.  Then she told me "You remember what I told you, it's important," and I replied "Wait for Winchester."  She smiled and said that was right.  She wants me to go talk to her doctor tomorrow.  Easier said than done, but I will try.  I'm not sure what she wants me to talk to him about, but I do want to ask if he'll come see her and talk to her about food.

I rubbed lotion on her arms and gently massaged the shoulder that seems to always hurt her.  There's a very tender place on her upper arm, but there's no bruise or sore there.  Nothing visible to fix, but it hurts terribly all the same.  When I finished, I sat down again and she reached for my hand.  She looked at me earnestly and said "She's pushed the button.  It's done.  The button is pushed."   Confused, I asked what button.  "Upstairs" she said and pointed to the ceiling.  In this one-story facility, upstairs can only mean one thing.  Then she looked at me.  Really looked at me.  Stoked my hand.  "She pushed the button.  I love you.  Goodbye."

I took her back out to the common area.  The nurse checked her blood sugar again and it was 104.  High enough for Mom to be making sense.  I kissed her goodbye and left her watching some Disney movie.

I fully expect a phone call either tonight or tomorrow telling me she's been sent to the hospital.  Who knows where she'll go from there.