My bud Frederick in room 104 is still here, unfortunately the woman in 103 and the one in 107 didn’t make it through the night. It seems like the occupants on this wing are departing quickly. Which leads me into the conversation I had with Dr. Ferguson this morning.
After coming back in to check on Mazha after the weekend, she asked me if I could step outside of the room… so with Kensington in tow, we stepped into the hallway.
“I want to apologize if I gave you any false hopes last week when I said that I thought she had short months left. It was very hard for me to give an answer with only seeing your mother for two days… she is showing signs that she’s reaching her final days. I would be very surprised if she is still here in a week. Her lucidness is quickly fading. If there is anyone that would like to see her and spend time with her, it really should be done in the next three days… after that, she’s not going to know, or fully comprehend, them being here. I’m so sorry. If you would like, I could talk to your mom, and apologize. I just couldn’t tell how fast this disease was progressing without seeing her, and her patterns over a span of time. She has increased respiratory congestion and she’s starting to have fluid buildup in lungs, as well as a decrease in urine output. I want to reduce the amount of food we’re giving her, because her stomach is elongated, and I want to work on adjusting her pain meds. [holding back tears] I know this hurts. I know you’re trying to stay strong… but it’s okay to feel pain. Again. I am so sorry.”
It took everything in me to pick up the phone and relay the information to Chris. He’s now making arrangements to be here tomorrow. I called Simone and told her the same. Aunt Paulette arrived and I gave her the news… the hardest was telling dad. We all knew that this day would come, and prolonging it seems selfish, if not on our end, on Mazha’s. This isn’t the woman we know and love. While there are brief moments of her being alert and talking (which gives us hope that she will be here longer), the majority of the day she is an empty vessel plugged into a ventilator.