I've been thinking a lot about how the holidays aren't always what they're cracked up to be.  Forced expectations of happiness and joy, yet in a world that can often be cruel and unforgiving.  This time of year amplifies the pain for so many.  So as you continue to wrap packages, bake cookies and find the wonder and joy in the season, also try and be compassionate for others.  That too is the spirit of the holidays.  

The following is an example of how the holidays are now hard for me.  With every joy is a reminder of the loss and pain that's still very fresh.  Even though I continue to overcome the sadness, I understand now how it's not easy for everyone.  The blessing in my own struggle is the compassion I feel for others.... 

1095 days ago I got a call from my dying mother around 4:30am.  She was in a Bloomington nursing home, recuperating from a procedure to remove fluid from her lungs as breast cancer continued to ravish her body.  It had gone from her breast to her bones (mostly her spine) and then started to suffocate her by infiltrating her lungs.  The 7-10 days of recovery was suppose to get her strong enough to go home for her last 6-8 weeks of expected life.

Just days before this morning, the doctors had given her a 6-8 weeks prognois, allowing her one more chemotherapy before her last Christmas.  But at 4:30am, I was abruptly jarred from my sleep to a panic-striken mother.  "I'm scared Jill, the workers in this nursing home are hurting me".  An orderly responding to her call light had yelled at her for disrupting his break time.  He threw insults her way as he commented how she wasted good food, pointing to her meal tray that had gone untouched from dinner.  My mother needed her oxygen to be turned up, but rather than help her, he turned off her call light and left the room eating her unopened yogurt - but not before warning her to keep her light off.

That was the last straw.  I had witnessed the awful abuse of the residents too - mostly by neglect.  The elderly had fallen and staff was slow to repond; patients had gone for as long as an hour crying for help with nobody to assist them.  What was wrong with these people?  My mother was the newbie  there and a short-timer.  I didn't want her to be a target, so I mostly kept quiet.  But this was it - as early as I could arrange it that morning, she was being transported to the N.C. Little Hospice in Edina.  When I showed up at the nursing home a few hours later, they didn't want to discharge her.  I let them know that I would carry her to my own car if they tried to stop me!  They denied the night's incident and told me my mother was difficult to please.  Difficult?  She was suffocating and needed help! 

Once at the N.C. Little Hospice, the nurses got her out of soiled pajamas, gave her a warm bath and got her comfortably in bed.  They came to me and noted that the wound site from both lungs looked as if they hadn't been attended to in days.  They replaced the foul smelling packed dressings, stating that had this gone on, she would have become septic.  I was horrified, but then the bomb dropped.  They wanted me to know she was actively dying and to be prepared for her death within days.

What?  What about the 6-8 weeks the doctors had given her? Oh please - not on Christmas - not with 3 young boys to have that as a lifelong reminder.  The head nurse told me my mother was anxious and highly stressed, talking about the abuse from the nursing home.  Likely that stress had taken its toll on her body.  Once settled in bed, mother continued to push her call light about every 15-20 minutes asking for help over the next 3-4 hours.  Once she realized that someone would come to assist her immediately, she started to relax and feel more comfortable.  She was always greeted by a compassionate nurse or volunteer.  I am so very grateful for that.

1095 days ago I went home to get my mother's greatest treasures: my three sons.  They came to the hospice after school and spent the early evening talking with her and sharing stories.   She suddenly seemed brighter and stronger.  She was actually requiring less oxygen through her canulla, which meant she was less stressed.  My middle son told her he was looking forward to sharing Christmas with her and she quietly told him "I'll be with Jesus honey".  We all just tried to laugh it off, but it really made us uneasy.  Later, with the children now back at home,  I settled in a chair next to Mom and allowed her to drift in and out of sleep.  A few times she started talking in her sleep to my father, my great aunt and to others I couldn't identify. You could tell they were pleasant dreams and yet I wondered, was she now starting her journey between two worlds?

A little after midnight Mom got up and asked the nurse to help her to the bathroom.  She asked me to wait in the beautiful living room and I respected her privacy.  When she called for my return, I entered the bedroom to find my mother lying in bed with one hand waving in the air. "You are dismissed honey, go home and be with the boys".  We argued a bit about me wanting to stay a little while longer because it was her first night, yet she assured me she was fine.  She grabbed my hand and thanked me for rescuing her from the nursing home (her words, not mine). She said she loved the hospice and she felt safe.  Now she could sleep well and she wanted me to have a good night's sleep too.  Then she kissed me and told me she loved me - and how grateful she was to have a daughter like me; someone she could count on and someone she was proud of.  I left her telling her I loved her too.

As I walked out the door, the snow was lightly falling and I was feeling so grateful to have gotten her to the hospice.  Never in 1095 days would I have assumed it would be the last time I would talk with my mother.  At approximately 6:00am the following morning, a nurse was in her room as she quietly and slowly took her last breath and died. 

The day before Christmas Eve we buried my mom, alongside my father at Lakewood cemetary.  It was a beautiful sunny day and yet, the images of mom's abuse put a cloud over everything; it continues to haunt me.  I called the nursing home hours after her death and demanded to speak to the Head Administrator.  I'm still waiting for that phone call.  I found notes in my Mom's purse about forced enema's to lessen the staff's time requirements for bathroom breaks and other explicit abuses that make my heart ache, but even after providing this to the State of MN's investigators of nursing home abuse, I've been told there is very little they can do but 'write them up'.  My mother (the victim) can no longer can testify to her abuse.

What I've chosen to do, 3 years (1095 days) later, is to volunteer at the N.C. Little Hospice.  I've been assisting as a volunteer for 2 years now and each time I leave a shift, I'm reminded how much more I get from the experience than I give.  I was there yesterday (at least until I got a phone call from the school nurse that child #3 had hurled).  Just three years ago I shared a common experience with these families..the pain of impending loss during the holidays - what's suppose to be a joyous time of year.  When these people leave their loved ones to shop at stores, buy groceries or go home at night, it's painfully aware to me that it's with sad hearts and the fear of impending loss. 

As you walk through your day and make it through the rest of the holidays, keep in mind that while it may not be death, there are a lot of people struggling and in pain this time of year.  The holidays are a time of giving - and the blessing of giving compassion & help to others is the biggest gift of all.

No matter what you Celebrate, May the Peace and Joy
of this Holiday Season Bring you Many Blessings!