I am going to ask this outright. I couched in another thread. But I am asking outright.
I can't be the only one dealing with this. This is a form of PTSD. My cousin said so. A grief counselor did.
How do you get past the end of life very graphic images? These are haunting me, quite frankly.
I am not special by any means. There are so many of us who just muddle through. Like the old pinball games. Bump into this, bump into that. We don't get any points for it.
Does this ever get better? Is it time limited? Mine is real fresh. Not yet 24 hours. I want to know there is an endpoint here, or what I should expect.
Sometimes small things will come up during the process and set you back. This is normal and ok. Here was mine: My MIL passed April 2nd. She was in hospice in her home and my hubby and I were there frequently right up until 12 hours before we got the call. My husband did not do well during hospice time and for a few weeks after, but he's doing better now (Previous PTSD from active duty deployments to middle east) and speaks of her fondly and even jokes about things she said or did. We don't discuss the end time tho, he just breaks down. It interferes with him working, so he just rather work and do family things.
I grieved pretty hard since my MIL was really the best MIL I could ask for. I thought I was done tho, able to talk about her and think about her without the end of life images...until this past Monday. Was shopping for candles and wax melts with my 11yr old daughter. She picked one up, smelled it and said "Mommy, this one is soooo good!". So I smell it, intending to get it for her, and it hit hard. It was the exact scent that was being used in the house where my MIL hospiced and died in. I couldn't buy it, held back tears and told my daughter that we need to wait some time before we get that scent because it reminded mommy and daddy of some difficult memories. (She was never in the house during hospice, so she didn't know.) She gave me hugs, and picked out an apple scent she knows I like and just stuck it in the cart.
I wish you good things, and again many condolences for your loss.
I am truly sorry for your loss, truly.
Being so fresh it is hard to imagine it getting better, but it will. It will.
Praying for you.
Your reply has touched me deeply on many levels. Thank you for your kind reply, more than you can imagine.
I touched on this topic on your other thread. It’s going to take time.
The images came to me often in the beginning. Mine eased with time.
I got some counseling after about 6 months. That helped.
This is going to sound ridiculous.
I had a dream about my Dad. He was sitting at the picnic table in my back yard drinking a frosty beverage in a College T-shirt. He wore them often. He played football there. He was laughing and talking but there was no sound. I was an observer in this dream. All this was directed my way. After the laughing and talking he was happily gesturing to me to “get outta here”.
Was this my Dad, my hero, coming to me from the other side? Some might say that. I don’t know. More than likely my own mind trying to give me comfort and permission to move on.
If the Hospice you used offers bereavement counseling start with that. Access other counseling if you can.
It’s hard. It’s a struggle. Don’t deny yourself help.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Take care of yourself. You deserve it!
I haven't really thought it through yet, though, my LO is on Hospice. I was told that I could be called so that I may go to my LO at the end (at MC) or see her after the end. I'm now re- considering it. She is end stage dementia and does not look well. It's difficult to know just how much worse it will get. I dream of her (she's my cousin) often and in my dreams she is happy, healthy looking, though still in wheelchair. Not at all like she appears now. So, I'd like to keep those subconscious memories. I'd like to avoid having intrusive thoughts of her toward the end.
Again, my condolences to you. May the happy memories give you peace & comfort now & always.
I lost my mind and asked if I could come seem my mom. Cassandra, who has become my little secret angel said, well embalming does enhance preservation.
Me: but she is being cremated.
Cassandra: and that's my point. Some things have started to happen and you don't want that image to be last one you have of your mom.
Me: oh my gosh, i am so sorry.i don't know what is the matter with me. I am so sorry.
Cassandra: you are not the first, nor the last to ask. You are grief stricken. Let us Take care of your mom and your family. We are going to help you get through this.
Seriously I don't WTF. I was thinking. So my point being anyone concerned about some gaffe you have committed, during this, you are not alone.
Do you have letters that your mom wrote earlier in her life? Reading happier times in her handwriting might be a way to jog the good memories into the forefront of your mind.
As for your "gaffe" with the funeral home, please know that is normal. My husband was a pallbearer for his aunt. Just before lowering the casket, her husband asked that the casket be opened so he could see his beloved one more time. It's part of the healing process to be able to say goodbye.
When my dad died, a friend gave me the advice to be as kind to myself as I would be to a friend experiencing the same loss. Those words helped when I would get impatient with myself for crying over a joke I wanted to share with him but couldn't any longer.
My MIL passed away last fall and there was a graphic moment at the end. Others left the room, and it was my first instinct as well. I was able to turn around and hold her hand instead and it's a moment that I am proud of. I also have to give huge kudos to the nurse who was so compassionate in cleaning her up quickly. That graphic image stuck in my mind for weeks after her death. What helped me was going through her photo albums as we separated the pics for different family members. Seeing her happy was able to push back (not out) the image of her final moments.
You are in the most raw stages of grief now...it will get better.
Can you picture the last time you held your mother's hand while she was alive? I'm thinking, maybe, if you form a strong, different image it will help to shut out the traumatic imagined one.
This is a horrible time and I feel for you.
My saving grace was that one of my sisters was there with me at my Mother's house for the last few days of her life, and we talked about it for hours over the first few weeks after her death. I remember being really hesitant to talk to anyone else about it - I didn't want to drag anyone else into my angst and leave those images in anyone else's mind.
My mother's passing was relatively peaceful, but still it was awful. You will heal from this, but it takes time. Grief counseling is a good idea. There are many of us here who understand and can relate to what you're feeling. Give yourself time and try to take care of yourself now, as best you can. Hugs!!!
I know this will sound awful -- and I don't know how old you are or your living arrangements, but MOST caregivers will once again have to earn a living, and that will be monumentally difficult due to age discrimination in the work place. Employers tend to shy away from older Americans; still you will have to get back to the work force. My neighbor told me he had to get back to work when his wife died (he ended up having to quit his job to care for her), and he said working really helps a lot.
A dead body will not bother me compared to the mess I'm going to have to deal with...but at least I got everything taken care of before she dies: Prearranged cremation, and eldercare attorney got the estate prepared so nothing will go into probate. The more you get prearranged the smoother it will be to transition to life without mom. Prearranged funerals are best because the funeral home can really take advantage of your grief and gouge you because you are not thinking straight. I am NOT going to spend a fortune on body disposal because I have to go on living. The time to pay homage to a person is when they are alive, and you love and care for them. When they pass it's too late.
https://themighty.com/2018/12/ball-box-analogy-grief/
“Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
It started with a fall and in and out of hospitals and rehab NH's. At the end she was on hospice in my home, bedridden with numerous problems. 13 years prior she had been diagnosed with an inoperable abdominal cancer that seemed non-existent after the radiation. At that time she was given 6 months to live, yet went on mostly symptomless 13 and a half more years.
The last 19 months were the worst time. The things that happened and stupidity of staff in facilities has created much anger in me that I have never gotten over. In the first rehab after the fall, which was a 5 star Medicare rated facility, she developed a tailbone sore that was stage 4. I did not know about this until she was rushed to the hospital from this facility with delirium from a UTI! She had frightening delirium several more times later. After another episode and hospitalization she went to another 5 star NH for rehab. Some incompetent woman on staff there dropped her in front of the wheelchair and broke her ankle. I took her home after she was recovered. Then more delirium and visions that were often frightening. She would see a woman's head spinning around on top of her TV or yell because she thought the doorbell rang at 3 am. I had nurses train me to give insulin shots and do wound care. The wound was to the tailbone and the dressing had to be protected with a gauze from the diarrhea which was the result of radiation burns years ago from the cancer treatment. This was a constant daily battle. I had to empty bloody catheter bags as well
I did have a wonderful hospice team and could not have gotten through this time without them, though most of the work fell on me.
My mom wanted to find peace and she finally did after 19 months of hell. I try not to be angry at the incompetence I witnessed. I try to not see the things I saw during those 19 long months. I got through it doing the best I could to keep mom comfortable and doing little things like flowers on her dinner tray, photos on the dresser, nice classical music she liked. Most of the time I am ok, but I am not over this as it has left me angry. At least I don't jump at loud noises anymore. Old friends bragging about their great and perfect lives after their parents passed on did not help either. I was also thrown into care for MI, 88, after a year's break because my husband's sister who was living with MIL died.
This whole thing left me with scars, though I am trying very hard to enjoy what I can because I know my mom would not want me to be this way. I suppose it depends on how bad the memories are and how much you try to build new memories. During mom's demise I got out old photos of her past, happier life and looking at those really helped. There was so much more to her life than the rough ending time. With time the bad memories fade but with me will never fully go away because of the length of time endured and lack of help. Try looking at photos of happier times. This does help me. {{hugs}}, Katie.
I ended up nearly drinking myself to death, had to have multiple Gastrointestinal surgeries that almost took my life,had to be hit several times with the paddles to get me back. I am going to be 69 in a few weeks and the only thing that most of my doctor's say is to prescribe opioids to try and keep me comfortable. With all the restrictions put on prescribing high doses of them I am in a catch 22.
I say all of this because for years I didn't stick with therapy which I believe with all my heart that if I had I would have processed all the pent up grief over the years I would not be in the condition I am in today. I beg you to seek all help available by professional trained folks that can get you through this. It will never go away completely but with help you will pick up the tools needed to get through life.
Peace and Love
Dumping1..aka
Tim Shockley
Segoline, eventually you just won't go there anymore. This is all still so fresh for you. Give it time.
My mom had a rare form of red blood cell cancer for a number of years that caused anemia. She died in 2013 at the age of 86 so she lived a good long life. For six years I watched over her and found doctors who could provide quality of life. During her last nine months she could not heal and had several amputations. Her medications caused her to be diabetic but she had trouble healing due to thyroid shutdown. She decided to sign herself into hospice. She was in a rehab facility at the time and decided to do hospice there. I took movies up for us to watch and spent hours with her laughing. I also started to research the family to tell her about all the people she was going to meet. She would not shower unless I gave her the shower and she would lavish there for 30 to 45 minutes. This I did for her because it was my duty and I believed my honor. At the moment she left her body she woke me up and I felt her presence. It was like being wrapped with a warm electric blanket and she began talking to me not though my ears but in my brain. She was happy and free of all pain! At 5:35AM the hospice nurse called and said, “Your mom is gone!”
I laughed and said, “I know, she is here with me and we are walking out the door,” since I had promised to do her hair and put makeup on her.
The warm glow of her spirit stayed with me constantly for two days and she would make me laugh so hard with jokes and little quips. I felt her presence several times after that but I also thought I was a little crazy so I asked her for verification. A month after her death I was setting up an antique show (we often used to do them together during her last few years) and her favorite porter helped me with my things at setup. She had always called Robert her savior for changing a flat tire for her. While I was talking to Robert I felt my mom’s presence. I said, “She is here.” The warmth occurred and I could hear my mom saying, repeating, “Robert was all wet.”
I asked Robert, “Why is my mom saying you were all wet? Was it raining outside?”
With a broad smile he said, “Your mom is here!” He then told me it was mid-summer and about 100 degrees outside and she had parked her van in the sun on asphalt, so it was hot. Robert made Mom go inside while he changed her tire and when he was done, his clothes were soaked with sweat. He was drenched. He gave me a hug for my mom.
The last time I felt her presence, I was in the house with my father. She reminded me that the lock box in the back of the top of her closet. It was locked and I had no idea what the combination was. She told me and I opened it on the first try! Inside were the car titles, my father’s Navy discharge papers and much more. I have been blessed to know that she is happy and with God and receiving all that he promised. I am now taking care of my Dad who suffers with dementia and a personality disorder, so my trials are far from over. I am blessed with first-hand knowledge that our reward lasts an Eternity!