Wake

Tonight was my mother’s wake. A lot of people showed up. A lot of people. Massive amounts of flowers were delivered before and brought by people visiting. The room where my mother laid was filled with the deep fragrance of lillies and other flowers. Everyone was emotional, and some completely broke down, which was surprising for some whom I have always considered to be cool cats. They’re still bad ass, but it was good to see they aren’t robots. :) I must have shaken a hundred hands, kissed two hundred different cheeks and comforted a bunch of people. It’s interesting how people continue to feel guilty that I comfort them in their sorrow, as all of them probably had the idea that they would come over to comfort me. I have had some time to mourn, and these people, especially the ones who continue to stuff their feelings deep inside, are suddenly confronted with the reality of her passing and all the emotions suddenly well up inside of them. Some people cried in my arms because of my mother, but some of them cried in my arms because of me, because they sympathise with me and how much I had to endure through all of this.

I’m so tired that I’m not entirely sure I’m making a whole hell of a lot of sense here, but I’m so sleep deprived I’m seeing cross-eyed. One more day, one more day and one more speech…then I get some rest.

Interesting; a bunch of kung fu people showed up, courtesy of Marloes, which was great. I was eye to eye with Sven, which was cool, too, because I hadn’t seen him in fifteen odd years, give or take. And it was great to see Wai again. We had spoken a few days ago, which was fantastic, and seeing him again was good, too.

Eva was great, and always touches me so deeply. Sam was there, which was awesome. Frank was there, which I deeply appreciate – he’s such an awesome guy. Mouls was great. Kim unloaded her thoughts, emotions and feelings onto me, which I appreciated. Tony showed a side of himself I hadn’t seen before, which gives him so much more definition than I realised before. I got a great hug from the Master Hugger; Uncle Rob. I also got a great hug from Sandra and Sam.

All in all, this evening was exhausting and amazing, and it’s hard to focus on one particular person or event for very long without my brain refocussing on something equally impressive, significant or touching. And the actual cremation still needs to happen! I feel I didn’t have enough time to spend with everyone. Some people deserved more of my attention, like Mike, and my grandmother, but sadly I couldn’t be in two conversations at once. If I could, I would.

I had to have a hard conversation with someone who wasn’t invited – who had been explicitely asked not to come, which I thought I handled very well, but I’m not sure if the message sunk in. If she shows up tomorrow I’m going to have to get ugly, which I don’t want to, but will have to do.

Someone who didn’t know my mother asked me if I wanted them to be there, and I said I didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that. They might not know my mother, but there were plenty of people there who were simply there to support me, or one of my siblings, and I should really try to remember that it’s okay to accept help or support.

Anyway, gotta go. I still have a speech to write and perhaps a couple of hours of sleep to catch.

Trouble

It’s quite unbelievable how many disappointments we’ve run into trying to arrange for my mother’s cremation, all as a result of one mistake made in Italy and the subsequent transport of my mother’s body to the Netherlands. It’s frustrating that because of that mistake we can’t turn her cremation into what she wanted it to be.

In the meantime, I’ve missed Dennis II, Jim, Gay Pride and my Warcraft guild’s guildmeeting in Amsterdam. I don’t regret that, but it’s unfortunate.

Preparations

My brother, sister and I are busy preparing everything for my mother’s cremation. It’s going well, the hardest part is finding people who have the stones to say something at her funeral. Naturally, I will do it (“As long as I have to.”) and my cousin Kim wanted to recite something she found very relevant. With my father’s funeral, his best friend spoke as well, and he’s a writer, poet and Dutch teacher, so he knows how to do that really well. I wish there was someone like that now, too.

The hardest part, personally, is talking to everyone we are inviting. We took the same approach as last year, by bringing the invitations/mourning cards personally. It means you have the same conversation a lot, and because I was with her in Italy they kind of look to me for the details, but I find myself a little reluctant to share them. Not because I’m greedy, but because the last few hours were kind of hard. Well, really hard and not something I think she’d tell to others. See, my mother had a tendency to hide her pain and suffering.

I don’t know. I have a tendency to fall silent a lot lately.

Mother

Worst day of my life? It can always get worse. Of course she was scared, terrified, even. I was called around 1:30 am, after about two hours and change of sleep and asked to come to the hospital. My mother was panicking and it was thought that seeing me might calm her down. It didn’t. After several hours a cocktail of severe sedatives did the trick, but until that time it was undescribably horrible. With the sedatives she went limp and slept, her breath rapid and shallow. She took her last breath at 15:00 exactly. Finally this nightmare is over. Now it’s just a matter of logistics. I am so fucking relieved.

Welcome…

…to the worse day of my fucking life. No joke, no exaggerations, this far outweighs the day I sat next to my father’s bed and watch him die. This time, however, my mother seemed to get really close to it. It all started a few days ago, when she became less and less energetic and started losing her breath and as a result hyperventilating. On top of that, she seemed to be getting sleepier and sleepier, to the point, this morning, where I was not able to fully wake her up any longer. She also started talking nonsense, as if she was confused or delirious, except she didn’t have the costumary fever to go along with the fever. She also became clumsy, disoriented and a little feeble in her manner. I became concerned a few days ago, but now it was time to get her to a hospital. (To be honest, I would’ve rather headed to the airport, but it was too late for that. The deterioration went so fucking quick.)

So I got the spend all day at the emergency room in the hospital of Imperia, which meant I was surrounded by doctors and nurses who hardly spoke English and it was very confusing to figure out what they had done in terms of research and what the conclusions were. Luckily, the family we’re staying with both work at the hospital, one as an orderly and one as a nurse, and they helped termendously to make sense of the chaos. As is customary in Italian hospitals (apparently) is that nobody can be present during any procedures, so I got kicked out of the room a lot. I thought my mother would freak at that, but I guess the positive side of being so lethargic and sleeping because of it is that a lot of stuff just passes you by. So no freak-outs. Good. So I was there for six hours before she was admitted to a proper room on the Medicina Donna ward (female medicine), which meant another bunch of being kicked out. Our two family members weren’t able to join us for much of it, so I could hardly protest them kicking me out of the room the whole time. Finally I was admitted, and I took up my place next to my unconscious mother.

During all of this, my mind was moving a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. One of the overwhelming feelings I had was that I wanted to get her to the Netherlands, and so, through Frank, I was able to get in contact with SOS International, an organisation that specialises in repatriation of the ill and the dead. Sadly, they can only do something once they have an accurate assesment of what the problem is with the patient. That was taking some time, and so I waited. Meanwhile, the news was spreading among my friends as I was frantically trying to figure out the logistics of getting my mother back to .nl until Jan joined me and said that there wasn’t a doctor in the world that would dismiss my mother in her current state. He had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it. Admitting it would mean I had to stay in Italy with my mother until a) her situation improved to the point where she could travel or b) her situation deteriorated to the point where she would die. Neither seemed very appealing. Waiting isn’t appealing.

When the doctor finally came to see her, armed with the blood tests and x-rays they took. He didn’t speak any English, but Jan was there to translate. He asked a bunch of questions, especially about the medication she was taking. She has brain, lung, liver, bone and stomach cancer, so naturally she is taking some pills. After some back and forth he concluded that the first order of business was to get her off the medication. Amongst the medication are two substances – Lyrica and Methadon – that have an affect on the respitory system, and Methadon especially, when taking high doses, cause the patient to become drowsy. He thought that she was simply taking too much medication, which resulted in the symptoms she was afflicted by. He was going to stop the medication (or at least some of it) only administering it when she was in pain. Hopefully she will show signs of improvement in the morning. She has until thursday to be well enough to travel because that’s when our return flight departs. That would be sweet, but I’m being cautiously optimistic now, which is a shite side better than I was during most of the day.

The idea of her being over-medicated was corroborated by my sister, who said that her personal physician, who is of the opinion that in the state she’s in right now she should never feel a bit of pain, said that once she got lethargic they could no longer up the dossage of pain medication and the next step would be euthenasia, according to her wishes. Sadly, that’s not an option in Italy. Italy will probably be the last country on the planet that will legalise euthenasia, which is another reason I want to get her back .nl side.

I’m keeping all my fingers and toes crossed, and hope she won’t feel lonely or scared in the hospital until tomorrow. Luckily, Tina has a night-shift that starts at 22:00 and ends at 8:00, and will be able to go and check up on her regularly. Jan is working from 6:00 til 14:00, and will be able to do the same. I want to go tomorrow, too. Hopefully better rested, better dressed (I just threw something on), showered and fed, because this day killed me. I had half a sandwich and a bit of coke all day. Luckily, I smell Jan’s wonderful cooking and my stomach is growling.