There have been a lot of posts re: death and dying. If I may add my two cents worth. Some of you may remember that a few weeks ago, I posted about going in to get my mother up and thinking that she had passed on. I mentioned that even though I knew it would be better for her to go, yet I suddenly found that I wasn't ready for it. I know that one of these days it is going to happen, whether I am ready for it or not. But until then we will go on doing the best we can to keep her as safe and comfortable. As long as we can still get her to eat and as long as she can still swallow, we will feed her. But when the time comes that she can't swallow, then the family is agreed that we will keep her comfortable and let things take it's course. There will be no forced feedings or any tubes. That is not what she would have wanted. During one of the last lucid moments that we had, we had a long talk about this disease. She made me promise that I would not use heroic or aritficial measures to keep her alive. Last night I wrote another poem ( Here we go again :-D ) that will hopefully adequately express my feelings about this subject.
The Answer's No
Am I ready for her to go beyond this vale of tears and woe?
Am I ready to say goodbye, to say, Dear God, release her soul?
My heart tells me it's better, for her to leave this life.
But my emotions are all tangled, and there's still a lot of strife.
Each day's a brand new journey, and the path is still unknown.
And Lord you've been beside me and I know that I have grown.
I've bathed and clothed and fed her. I've stood close to guide her feet.
And yes to be quite honest, there are days when I feel beat.
To listen to her talk can sometimes drive me up a wall.
I long to hear the phone ring, just to hear a friendly call.
This lady is my mother, who along with my dear dad,
To bring us up the right way, they gave everything they had.
And now I watch her daily, always with a broken heart.
This terrible disease has pulled us ever so far apart.
The world in which she's captive, is from the distant past,
And I can't help but wonder, how much longer must it last?
Yes, I know it would be better, if God would let her go.
But I have to face the question, am I ready? The answer's no.
© 1998, Jerry Ham