Mother died of a massive stroke the afternoon of January 30, 2006. She had recently strained a back muscle again. We'd tried pain medication, muscle relaxants, and various types of skin patches. I really could not tell if any of it was working or not. She seemed slightly better, but that's as far as I'd go.

She had gone back to bed, and I went out to lunch. Within about 20 minutes, I got a call from the psych nurse who said that when she arrived, she found mother to be totally unresponsive. By the time I got home, mother was being loaded into the ambulance. When I got to the hospital, they asked me to come back immediately. The neurosurgeon asked me what her wishes were, and I said she did not want to be resuscitated. He showed me her CAT scan, which I wish I'd not looked at. The image still haunts me. He said she had at most a few hours.

I returned home for copies of the power of attorney and living will. By the time I made it back, a friend of her's had arrived. The nurse indicated that mother had maybe 30 minutes remaining. And indeed within 20 minutes of so, she was gone.

I know that she was so very unhappy and was willing to pass over at any time. Although the suddenness was a shock, I also viewed it as a blessing.

Over the several months we were together, realized that until then I had not understood the severity of her condition. And I recognized that her problems had been on-going for several years.

Alas, that I could not have done more. In reality, the only thing I could have done would have been to retire and move in with her several years ago.

For the first few weeks, I was constantly reminded of her absence. But it has proven too difficult to remember her as she was the last month, so I conjure up memories from the past.

As with my father, there are unresolved issues in my psyche about how she responded to a number of situations. There is a degree of anger that flares up from time to time.

The funeral was held on Wednesday. And I managed to survive that with a healthy does of xanax and clonazepam.

Not to sound mercenary, but I knew that the household income would now be only my retirement check. (In fact, I received a letter on Friday from her retirement saying that although the January check had already been directly deposited to her banking account, they would be retrieving it as soon as possible. I then called Social Security and discovered the same situation applied. And they too would be retrieving their deposit.)

I contacted a friend of her's whose children are county officials asking for a bankruptcy attorney. She got back to me over the weekend, and I paid the attorneys a visit the next Tuesday.

Essentially, I filed for chapter 7 bankruptcy protection. The hearing was held the first of June, and I'm now waiting for any major objections to surface.

I try not to think of the fact that I have no savings and no credit.

I am thankful that she is at peace. I've also come to recognize a Buddhist experience "katannu katavedita" that has given me a perception independent of grief or loss or anger.

Here it is more than two months since my August entry. When I wrote it, I never dreamed how things would change.

Mother has been home since August 31. And her home is now our home - her, me and five cats.

We've discovered that we have access to a fairly efficient home health agency that provides weekly visit from a nurse and a psych nurse, and twice a week visits from an aide. There was also twice a week visits from a physical therapist, but that service has stopped. However, the physical therapist worked out an exercise routine she can follow when she feels like it.

She now is able to move about using a walker. And we take walks outside a couple of times a day. Wheelchair use is restricted to the kitchen.

Several times, we've been out to eat somewhere. But I can tell she is not totally comfortable with that.

Every second or third day, we go for a car ride in one direction or the other. I try to point out anything that might catch her attention. Sometimes that is successful; sometimes, not. However that is not anything new. There's always been a certain disinterest in things around her.

The biggest problem is boredom. What can she do that will be of interest, slightly challenging but not overtaxing? The best bet so far has been jigsaw puzzles; especially if I start one with her.

The other difficulty is sleeping. Since her activities during the day are limited; at night, she has trouble going to sleep. I also think that some of the medication makes her drowsy but not enough to fall asleep. However, I'm working with her on how and when to take her sleeping medication. She may be taking it too early, or too late. She may need to take it or not take it with other medication.

Certainly everything is not perfect. But it could certainly be worse.

So much has happened since my last entry. In the middle of August, mother started talking about returning home. An idea that I certainly could understand. Since other than meals and physical therapy, activities at the nursing home were limited.

At the same time, I was getting more and more irritated with work. So I decided to retire.

I knew I would have to sell my house and move into her home. Before moving, I worked frantically to clean out her house and mine. Bit by bit, I began the tiresome moving process.

On Wednesday the 24th, I took the cats to their new home. That was the deciding factor as to which house I would consider home.

In the midst of this, I came down with an upper respiratory bug. Then I had a severe panic attack that cause me to go to the emergency room.

I made plans to take mother home on the 31st. On the 29th, hurricane Katrina hit knocking out power to most of the area. Fortunately, I was only without power for one night. As I found out on the 31st, the nursing home had not been so fortunate. Their power went out on the 29th and was still out on the 31st. They also had discovered that their generators had to be shut down every so often.

Amazingly enough, the move home went very smoothly.

Saturday the 30th, I spent several hours at mother's cleaning up/out. The hardest part is to figure out where to put what. But this is slowly beginning to gel.

Both the den and the living room have large pieces of carpet used as wall-to-wall rugs. After much shifting and pushing of furniture, I was able to drag the one out of the den. Carpet is one of the most difficult items to move. When I moved into my current house, I made myself sick dealing with it.

Sunday I visited her at the nursing home for about an hour. She was lucid and aware of things around her. I tried to steer the conversations to topics that would not confuse her.

Yesterday I went by at noon, and she was having her hair done in the beauty shop, so I told her I would come back in the evening.

I also visited with her neighbor across the hall who is 97. Which I never would have guessed. She was upset because one of the aides had grabbed her during the night and caused her arm to bleed. It is beyond me to know what could have happened to cause this. She then looked at me and said, "I want to go home. But they sold my home and furniture and stuck me in here. And I don't have anyplace to go." It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears.

When I went back in the evening, mother told me that she had called for a pain pill about 4 am and finally someone showed up to ask why was the light on. Mother told her and the person left but never returned. Finally mother got into her wheelchair and wheeled herself down to the nurses's station. To say I found this disturbing is an understatement. This morning I called the head of nursing, and in the most diplomatic manner expressed my concern.

Again I stopped by her neighbor's room, who said the aide had been identified and terminated. The state has fairly strict background checks for workers at nursing homes, so it is highly likely she will be unable to get another job in the field.

Also this morning, I was finally able to contact the attorney again. The week after I spoke with him, they moved to another office. I was really getting edgy because I have to pay the home until we file for Medicaid. But the money is rapidly running out. He told me to go ahead and get the financial assets below $4,000. Paying the August bill will do it, I think.

The most difficult adjustment I've come to realize is that I can't pick up the phone and call her. I've done this for so long, that it is traumatic not to be able to do so.

I've also come to realize that this is not the way to spend your final years. I suppose that only the very rich can afford to take proper care of the elderly. There needs to be some systemic changes in health care.

I was able to make several quick trips to the home this week. And each time, she appeared alert and aware.

When she first moved in, I'd given her one of the Jan Karon books, but she wanted something easier to read. Last weekend, I bought "Little House on the Prairie" and "The Mouse and the Motorcycle." I left "Little House," but by mid-week, she wanted something else. So I dropped of "The Mouse" on Thursday. It's a cute story that I hope she will enjoy.

Monday, I sent off a completed questionnaire and some attachments to the attorney who is going to file for Medicaid. I'm not certain if I did it correctly or not. But I was getting tired of re-hashing it. And I need to contact him Monday to find out what to do next.

I'm not sure I understand the status of the umpteen medical bills. Most of these relate to her most recent hospital stays. Procedures and people I've never heard of.

For several weeks, whenever I get home from work, I reach for the phone to give her a call. And then I realize I can't do that. In my subconscious things are as they were. And memories of long ago evenings flash across my brain. Usually this signals the start of a panic attack, so I've learned to reach for the Ativan immediately. Otherwise, I'm seriously depressed for hours.

I keep trying to understand what's happening to her, but I can't. She appears to be ok most of the time. But then there are those periods when she says she's lost. "Everything is Greek to me." But she's never able to tell me what that means. I can ask her what day it is, where she is, what we were talking about, etc. And she's quick with the right answer. So I can't get a fix on the "lost" part.

In late February, mother fell at home and had to go to the emergency room. The x-rays did not reveal a fracture. However, her doctor wanted her to have some more tests. And indeed the next day, the CAT scan did reveal a fracture.

She stayed in the hospital for ten days during which time the doctor told her she would need more extensive therapy at a nursing home. When she first told me this, she was very upset. She said it would take everything we had including selling the house.

She seemed to like the nursing home until she pulled a muscle while trying to get out of bed. She appeared to be in significant pain. The doctor prescribed Darvocet as needed every four hours, then Ultram three times per day. I knew that Davocet was unlikely to work, and it didn't help. The Ultram helped but she still was experiencing pain.

Several times, she asked me to call the doctor for something stronger. Within a few days, the doctor prescribed a pain patch - Fentanyl 25. The patch relieved the pain, but almost immediately her personality changed in a very negative way.

She became hostile, confused, hysterical. There were frequent phone calls from her about problems at the home. They lost her laundry. They took too long to respond. They gave her the wrong medication. Her blood pressure was up. It took too long for her to receive her morning or evening medication. She demanded that I get her out of there.

During this time, I began to notice that her face was frequently in a scowl. Her brow appeared furrowed. But more noticeable was a twisting of the lower lip. And the lips were almost gray in color. This was a look that I'd never seen before, and I found it frightening.

On May 7, I took her home and arranged for full-time sitters. But the sitters kept changing, and she found that confusing. Meanwhile, Medicare was coming by to arrange for more therapy. We tried an evening without a sitter, and she became very fretful.

She called at the end of the next week indicating her back was worrying her again. And for a couple of days, she said she felt better. But on Saturday, she said she didn't know what to do. So I insisted she go to the emergency room, which she did.

She stayed a few days in the hospital and left with several new prescriptions - ones for dementia and anxiety.

A few days later, she started having urinary tract problems. And again, she made a trip to the emergency room.

Again, she was confused and hysterical. She wanted to die. The nurse called me wanting to know what to do. The hospital pharmacy called me trying to unscramble her medication. The doctor called me and said she needed nursing home care. She told friends not to visit or call again.

Finally I talked with a social worker and asked for options. And on the first Friday in June, she left the hospital for a different nursing home.

My primary reason for choosing this facility is that it is close to where I work. The first nursing home was at least ten miles away, and I was having to go there several times a day.

This home is older with a broader range of residents by age, gender and race. The first has been almost exclusively elderly white women.

This home is very good about providing feedback. They call any time there's a change in medication or therapy.

At first, I had my reservations about the home, but those have lessened as time progresses.