My Momma (Ann) was a student and a teacher her whole life. From the time she was a young girl in rural Kansas asking all the whys tied to trying to understanding humans and our experience through to her last days in rural Colorado, still investigating and still sharing.
She was diagnosed in June or July of 2017 with bile duct cancer, which apparently is a fairly rare cancer and has an aggressive progression. She was gone by the end of October.
Being my mother’s daughter I “studied” the experience of loss – both emotional and practical and hope that some of these leanings may be of use to others.
Supporting Your Loved One
We do the best we can to shoulder all the responsibility ourselves. I was lucky enough to be able to get the services of an excellent hospice team and there was local assisting living where Ann could get a room for the last few months of her life. If I hadn’t done this I wouldn’t have realized how turning over the responsibility of care allowed space for us to connect. I strongly encourage you to let others help, however much your circumstances allow. Hospice and care aides don’t have the family history so one of them suggesting my Mom should take X medicine or Y exercise didn’t have the hard to avoid frustration of a child “bossing” a parent.
The Paperwork Will Be a Mess
Even if things are pretty well organized, prepare yourself for unexpected hurdles. Some things that will help:
- Ensure you have passwords to all electronic devices, email, Facebook, etc…
- A power of attorney dies with the person, you need a will and possibly a trust if there is real property
- Even if you are the beneficiary on financial accounts, if you are not the “payable upon death” beneficiary you will not be able to access funds until after probate
- Even with a will there is a good chance you’ll need to go through probate
- Knowing what I know now, I’m looking a trust for my husband and I. Probate and other costs came in ~$10K, for a small estate. A trust will cost ~$2K plus annual fees. Costs are similar and stress is much lower.
- The professionals you work with may not think to explain all the granular details, for example, if we’d put Mom’s house in my name prior to her death I would not have needed probate in Colorado, but with the fog of a terminal illness, I forgot to follow up on that step. The attorney mentioned it but didn’t fully explain why. I’m sure she thought I’d understood. People forget that we don’t know what they know.
- Check all of this stuff for the county, state, country you live in – there is a lot of variability
Dying is Really Hard to Talk About
My Momma and I were very open with each other; at times inappropriately so 🙂 It never crossed my mind that we would not be able to talk about her death and her wishes in the moment. If you haven’t had a conversation with your parents, spouse, other loved ones who’s end of life may involve your support – do the best you can to gently begin those conversations. And, as above, if you’re able to access professional support take advantage of it. Ann could talk to others, particularly the staff at the assisted living, differently than she could to me. Even when things were hardest for her, she was my Momma and protecting me from her leaving so she needed others to share that with.
The Identity Goes Last
During Mom’s couple of months at the assisted living she taught all the staff about proper nutrition, on a limited budget – I’d say the fiber intake has gone way up in southern Colorado! Ann developed a friendship with a nurse who had been estranged from her mother and helped her find a way to reconnect. Another nurse was managing breast cancer – the type you live with for years and the two of them would discuss the experience. Ann had philosophical discussions with the pastor and offered playful friendship to the residents who were physically stronger but had major memory illnesses. Momma reminded me to slow down and be more patient. And when we couldn’t get her to wear her oxygen we just had to engage her inner scientist – once we started logging her oxygen levels on the whiteboard, Ann was interested in the data and would wear the hose. The best thing for both my Momma and me was her being able to spend those months in assisted living – it gave her space to just be and not worry about the pressures of maintaining a home, paying bills or getting to appointments. With that time she did what she’d always done best – built a community based on common understanding and interest in others. It meant that for the last few weeks, I had her back, and I was able to share her with all those other people. She wasn’t a cancer patient, she was Ann – a student, a teacher and my Momma.