Patsy Lynch Tolan was 69 when she died. It was a Wednesday, 23 years ago. The Friday before, my mother-in-law Mary had passed away after battling cancer. Uncle Phil, Mary’s brother, died the day after that. Because of all of that, my sister had come to be with my mom who lived with Jim and me.
My mom was Patsy. She was my hero, my pain in the neck, my wise woman, my funny mom. And she loved to talk and maybe even gossip a bit!! She was homebound and on oxygen. The phone was her link to the world.
Saturday, Jim and I visited with our uncle’s family. How weird that brother and sister should die a day apart!! We planned my mother in laws funeral, we gathered with the family. We grieved a woman who gave herself to all.
My mom, with my sister, carried out her day on the phone, spreading the word of the deaths and being the bearer of the news. When I got home, I sat on her bed and told her of the day. We laughed at some things, smiled at others. Mom was the daughter of a funeral director. I was a granddaughter of one. We always had a thing or two to say about funerals. And when I told her what funeral home we’d visited, she said, “When I die, don’t use them. I don’t like how they embalm.” My mom, my sister, and I laughed at this thought.
At about 4am Sunday morning, my husband Jim awoke to his mother’s voice telling him, “Go check Patsy!” We jumped up and heard a moan and ran into her room. My mother, Patsy, was lying sideways across the bed with a purple hue. Her bed was saturated with sweat. We called my sister in, and we called 911. The transport is a blur. I kept trying to say it would be ok, but she was so, so sick.
The hospital Mom was taken to was not one we’d ever been to before. In the emergency room, the doctors said she was in respiratory failure. Her blood pressure was barely palpable. We’d always discussed she would not be intubated as she had significant lung disease, but now was the moment of truth. “Mom, if your heart stops do you want it restarted?” “No,” she whispered through short breaths. Months before I’d been talking about comfort measures. She told me she didn’t want resuscitation if it got to a point she could not breath on her own. Let her go and please make sure she was not gasping for breath. Her wishes.
And so, I told the doctors at this hospital, that is no longer in existence, that we wanted comfort measures only. The doctors quickly began to criticize me for this choice. They kept telling me I was killing my mother! I don’t know why, at the most precise time, my mom’s doctor reached out to me. He’d cared for her for years. He spoke to the attending doctor at that hospital and told me to hang tough. I was doing everything right. My husband, having just lost his mom, was heading off these doctors and telling them to step away from me as I was so overwhelmed. We continued with comfort measures. And she was. And I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Me the hospice nurse of so many years!!
Oh my heart! My mom, who’d been sick since I was 10 or 11, who cared for me as best she could and who I cared for as best as I could, was leaving me! She’d suffered physically for years with pain and debility. She had to rely on family and friends to care for her. And they did. Her brother, sister and nieces and nephews. When as a child I was overwhelmed when we had to pick up the mom tasks, I’d tell her I didn’t know where to start! She’d say, “take a deep breath and start in the corner.”
Start in the corner. How many times in life are we hit with overwhelming circumstances. We just aren’t sure what to do next. I used her advice then. Start bedroom cleaning going into the corner of the bedroom, throw out trash, dust the table, make the bed, vacuum the rug. Start that hard class at school by taking small steps. Calm a room or person by taking a hand or a moment of compassion. Keep your eye on the doable and little by little the task is done. One of my greatest life lessons. My smart, wise mom.
The week from hell continued. My mother-in-law Mary had a viewing Monday evening. I was there for a short time and then went to sit with my mom. Overwhelmed with it all, I looked at the hospital doorway and there stood my fellow hospice nurse Sinead. Sinead, from Ireland, learned of my mom’s illness when she went to my mother in law’s viewing. She came to be present. She walked in the door to my great JOY. She opened the window of the room a crack and undid the covers from the bottom of my mom’s bed. She went into her purse, pulled out a cream and began to put frankincense on my mom’s feet. She said she was making way for my mom’s soul to leave the room to heaven. She looked at my mom and my family and said, “Don’t worry Pat. Mary’s finishing up her orientation up there and then she’ll be back to get you!”
Tuesday came and we sadly buried the best mother-in-law one could have.
Wednesday, April 24, 2002, my mom Patsy, left to follow Mary to orientation. To be with the angels. And with her God.
Thursday, we laid Uncle Phil to rest. Another beloved member of my in-law family.
Friday, we had a viewing for my mom. All week the crowds were there, long lines. Many and most of the same people. Now when mom had died, I asked my sister if we should just use the same funeral home we’d used all week. She said, “sure.” So off we go to the funeral home mom didn’t want. Cause she didn’t like how they embalmed. As I crept into the viewing room, I was almost afraid to look. But laying in the casket was my beautiful mom. And she looked beautiful and peaceful. And my sister Pam and I were so sadly happy. Our beautiful Mom, Patsy Lynch Tolan, was without pain at last. She was at peace. And she was beautiful!!
And Saturday, she rested. The corner was complete.
Walking Each Other Home 