My mother died last night at approx. 630 EST. My brother and SIL spent 10 1/2 hours with her in the local hospital yesterday. Supposedly she was there for badly impacted bowels. We have had problems with this hospital before, they mis-diagnosed her on another issue 2 months ago, and sent her home, missing what was wrong with her, and she was right back in the hospital the very next day - ended up spending 5 days in the hospital and over a month in a re-hab center. She had only been back home about
2 weeks when this happened.
So they "cleaned" her out, said her impacted area was the size of a baseball, gave her some diludid, and sent her home. Despite doing a CT scan, they said she had no other issue. My brother got her safely to bed, and left for the evening. I didn't visit her last night, we decided she needed sleep more than a visit. I agreed.
My wife and I spent about an hour with her late Sunday, Mother's Day, and she seemed in slightly better spirits, and a tiny uptick in health.
Apparently, she died unexpectedly less than an hour after my brother left her apartment. Her morning nursing staff found her body this morning, half in, or half out of bed. At some point, she woke up, used her walker to go to the toilet, and never made it all the way back in bed.
I would like to think that the stress of all she underwent was too much for her diabetes weakened heart. However, the coroner said there was enough evidence to warrant something out of wack, so a full autopsy was done today, results pending. Her stomach was completely full of blood. So there's more to this story.
Funeral arrangements are being made. She was just shy of 88 years old. And she outlived my father by 22 years. She was born in London in 1927, and went through all of WW2 in London through the bombings. She became a war bride when she married my father, an American sailor, in 1949. She didn't even become a US citizen until around 1965, I remember the ceremony.
I knew she wasn't well, but it took all of us by total surprise in the suddenness of her death. I feel a deep hole that will never be filled again. I accept the reality of her death, but the finality aspect is still hard to grasp. I would visit her at least 2x a week on my own. She only lived about 1/4 mile or so from me, and then we would visit with her every weekend.