197. Mother-Daughter Journey: Any Day Now, I Shall Be Released
“I Shall Be Released”
Bob Dylan
They say ev’rything can be replaced
Yet ev’ry distance is not near
So I remember ev’ry face
Of ev’ry man who put me here
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
Yet ev’ry distance is not near
So I remember ev’ry face
Of ev’ry man who put me here
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
They say ev’ry man needs protection
They say ev’ry man must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above this wall.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
They say ev’ry man must fall
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above this wall.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
Standing next to me in this lonely crowd
Is a man who swears he’s not to blame
All day long I hear him shout so loud
Crying out that he was framed
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
Is a man who swears he’s not to blame
All day long I hear him shout so loud
Crying out that he was framed
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.
How does one deal with an ending? I thought I was so very tough, but when I connect the words to reality, I lose it.
I had the doctor visit her this morning and finally he was able to report the window shades were open and light was coming in. No changes were made in medications. It is usually her psychological state that he zeroes in on, but this time he examined her to find decubiti, the skin is wearing away against bone. On her heels, on her back. Bedsores. She is not eating as well as she used to. She is dehydrated and malnourished. Hospitalization is out of the question, it is instant death as a nursing home would be. No to feeding tubes. They don’t give fluids by tube at home. She drinks Ensure and juice. This is the way it is.
She is wasting.
We are getting to the end of the line.
I had a long conversation with my mother last week and wish I had taken notes. I can barely recall the details, but a few thoughts have floated to the surface of my repressions. The aide had said that my mother would be awake at night and try to get out of bed. I said, as though it would make a difference, as though my mother could grasp it, “Mom, you can’t try to get out of bed in the middle of the night, you can fall!” And, her interpretation was, “you fell! Did you hurt yourself? Are you calling me from the hospital?” And at one point she said, “Don’t be sad, don’t cry.” As much as I feel that was a disconnected statement, it was a connected statement; perhaps, on some level, a level I wasn’t even tapped into consciously, she discerned my sadness. Was it that she knew she was leaving, was that what she was referring to? I had been trying to find information about my mother’s parents on Ancestry.com and have been unable to find their surname from their area of Russia. I asked my mother if she had ever heard her father pronounce his name with a V rather than a W. She heard me and was able to respond that she had always heard the W. When she processes and responds to information appropriately, it always gives me a moment of hope.
Charlie, the clergy called just now and reported that he visited her and that she was peaceful: She was glad to see him. I told him what the doctor said and his response was on target: “we would expect such an elderly body to be dehydrated and malnourished. But at the very end, breathing is labored and the kidneys give out.” There is no sign of that yet, and the doctor even said her blood pressure was good.
Charlie had a perfect analysis for a conversation with my mother…she began by complaining about the aides and gradually the topic changed to more philosophical thoughts, about love and how the world needs more of it. But a conversation with my mother, he said, is like tuning a radio. There is static. Things aren’t clear. With more fine tuning, the station comes in and there is good reception. Then there is background humming and the station blips in and out. The next topic might be on target, or not. It’s a crap shoot.
The song, playing in my Cerebral Jukebox, is always playing in the background, loud and clear.
Any day now.
📌The series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey
The previous post is here
The next post is here
very sad,just so hard to know how both of you really are.?I really care and yet all I can say,both of you be ever so glad to have talked and be happy with each other.I just know this is so sad.I hope you have been resting Susan,God Bless you both
Sue, I send my love to you and your mother! I read this with tears in my eyes!! ❤️❤️
I just burst into tears. My friend, you are goodness and sensitivity — how you handle all that’s thrown at you is a mystery to me. I offer support in these most trying times.
I have always felt a certain sadness about your Mother, she has always tried so hard to keep herself so pretty. I’am sad tonight for you, for her.I know it has to be hard for you both. I pray God gives her peace, she just is ready to leave. I hope you know I care for you all very much.May you both know that final peace she needs love to you both.
Love to you and to your mother
Love at the end is a combo of feelings-sadness, grief, and coming relief (for her and for you).