Tuesday, February 09, 2016

Could have done without the death rattle

It's been a year since my mother died, my father and I with her in her last moments. Her last hour was ghastly with ragged spaced-out breaths with the yellow of death spreading from her mouth as each intake grew further and further apart.

Though it was a merciful release, I was in the throes of returned anxiety and her last moments were caked in pain and distress, made worse for her being unable to speak as she died from sepsis over five days. 

If you can avoid being with a person who is dying and in acute distress I recommend it, especially if baked in returned anxiety.

As I rode the SoTPC I was test watching a new show and, like all good shows, it was introducing characters and their motivations in the first ep. And what better motivation is there for a character being forced to take to the road after the passing of their mother.

Mercifully, her death rattle was just thirty seconds of screen time against the last hour of my mother. Like with squeamish scenes in movies, I held my hand out so I couldn't see it and shout-spoke over the top until that bit was over.  

it was an unpleasant reel life and real life intersection.

My mother is literally in a better place—dead—her last three years huddled in a destroyed mind, her last hour pure agony.

But what a fun way to have been reminded of all of that; thanks, Universe.

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