I can’t believe it.

Wednesday morning the other half got a call from Mum. She’d fallen and she couldn’t get up. He was already up and dressed so he jumped in his car and drove over, I got up and threw clothes on as fast as I could while I called the ambulance as he drove over. The ambulance call taker took his number and while I drove over called him to get more info.

When I got there she was still conscious. She hadn’t broken anything in her fall – silly now to think my biggest concern at that time was a broken hip. The ambulance call taker was telling me to get her to focus on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I kept saying it, over and over. FUCK OFF she said to me in her characteristic way, just as the call taker told me the ambulance was in the street. I ran out to direct them in, and that is when she stopped breathing. The other half called out to me to let me know and the paramedics went in and began CPR.

Time stopped. A second crew of paramedics appeared. They did everything they possibly could.. but.. she was gone.

We are in so much shock because I expected at least another 10 years before she left us. At least with Dad we had time to prepare.

She was set up over there so perfectly, everything she needed was just within reach. And it was such a peaceful spot. Mum had a family of kangaroos, visiting kookaburras, a wonderful back patio to sit and enjoy the trees.

It wasn’t until later that I found the piece of paper with all the high blood pressure readings, then I checked the machine with the past 20 readings many of which were severe hypertension. She did not tell me.

We had a doctor visit set for Wednesday afternoon and I had been going with her as they were setting her up a care plan. I’m sure she just thought oh, I’m going to the doctor today, we’ll sort it then.

She missed Dad far more than we knew. I’m happy they are together again. I’m thankful for that, sad for us.

Her last words to me were so Mother. ;) I won’t take that personally.

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9 thoughts on “I can’t believe it.

  1. I’m so sorry to read this. We can debate forever if it’s better to lose someone you love with no warning or slowly over time. It hurts no matter whata. I would prefer to go like your mother did surrounded by beauty, personal freedom, and love, than to linger — and with those memorable last words that I hope will always make you smile.

  2. Oh no…how traumatic for you to go through that, and I hope you allow yourself lots of recovery time. I am happy for your mom that she was so well situated in her last months. I bet the coming months will be tough and you will need some treats and things to look forward to. Thinking of you!

  3. Oh, Snoskred, I’m so very sorry. It’s a terrible thing for us when it happens so quickly. I’m glad that you can accept with a little humor her so-mother last words. I’m sure they were said with love, right?

    Take care of you. Hugs.

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