Lessons My Mother’s Passing Taught About Both Living & Dying

hree years have passed since I lost my T mother. Notice I used the word “lost.” She isn’t missing; she died. But my perception today remains that in many ways she got lost in the health care system-both in her last days of life and in her death. My reflections on her health care and end-of-life situation come both as a daughter and as a nurse.

My mother, even though she was a strong and assertive advocate for oth- ers, wasn’t always the best at caring for herself. This seems typical of many women who grew up during the early 1900s. In 1995, at age 76, mom devel- oped what seemed to be a respiratory infection that would not go away. Her physician attributed the difficulty to her having previously been a smoker, as well as her age.

GOING DEEPER Soon it became apparent that her problems were more than just respira- tory related. She recognized this, as did the rest of the family, yet she didn’t want to question her physician or break away from him. Fate took the decision out of her hands as she began to feel much worse. She readily admit- ted this when I stopped by her house

Carole Ann Kenner, DNS. FAAN, is the associate dean for academic advancement at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

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one day for a visit. I listened to her breathing and couldn’t hear anything but rales on the left side. It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and her physician wasn’t available. So by her choice, off we went to the nearest what we would call “Doc-in-the-box” (acute care center). She still resisted when I suggested to her that she needed hospitalization.

At the acute care center, she was seen by an older physician who listened very patiently to what my mother was telling him as well as to what she was- n’t saying. He announced the diagnosis of congestive heart failure and wanted an ambulance called immediately. My mother emphatically insisted, “No ambulance!” and said that I could drive her. The physician and I both realized that while this wasn’t the best thing to do, it would upset and stress her more if we pursued an argument. So I drove her to the hospital, grateful that at least she agreed to go.

AT THE HOSPITAL She was examined in the emergency room by a family practice physician and a nurse practitioner student. The physician took the time to listen to her fears and to treat her as a whole per- son. He even allowed my father to stay with her in the examining room and later in the intensive care, as she had severe macular degeneration and my father was her source of support and her eyes. Both of my parents felt that they had met a friend that day. They had confidence that he would do his best for her. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he valued nurse practitioners, too. Fortunately, his practice was accepting new patients and she stayed in his care after her discharge from the hospital.

During the next three years, he and his partner continued to care for her. She did relatively well until once again

between Christmas and New Year’s, my dad became concerned as once again

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Volume 5. Issue 4

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fate intervened. During the week ‘a

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