Confession

Yesterday afternoon and evening, Mom grew increasingly cranky. Her catheter leaked constantly. She grimaced so much as I closed up her diaper that I had her do it herself. She denied pain, but said her catheter "stung." And the big clue, Mom called hospice to send a nurse out. After she called, at the next diaper change, I found blood from the catheter. Not good.

When the nurse called back, she asked, "Do you want someone to come out and change the catheter?" I said, "I don't know! I'm calling you with the information I have." So, eventually a nurse came out. She too asked if we wanted the catheter changed. Again I said, "We don't know! We don't have the training to know. That's why we called you." To my everlasting credit, I did not say, "Duh!" Anyway, the nurse decided to change the catheter.

I asked Mom if she would like to take something, since this was obviously going to hurt.

No.

I asked Mom if she would like a stick to bite on.

She did not appreciate the humor. I was lucky enough to get to hold the flashlight for the nurse, so I had a front and center seat for all of Mom's facial contortions of pain. Afterwards, the nurse asked if Mom was on fluid restriction. No. She asked why don't I make Mom drink some cranberry juice everyday. I answered that I don't make Mom do anything. The nurse asked Mom if she would drink a pint of cranberry juice that very night and Mom said she would love to. (What?? Would love to???)

I went to the kitchen, poured a pint jar of cranberry juice, tossed in a few ice cubes.

And added a small dose of morphine. Yes, it's true. I slipped my mother a mickey.

I had seen enough stupid pain for the day. I popped a straw in the glass and delivered Mom her happy juice. She dutifully drank half, then went to sleep and slept all night long. In the morning, even though the catheter had leaked some into her diaper, Mom was rested and happy. She reveled in the fact that she had indeed had no pain, evidenced by her peaceful night's sleep. And I just couldn't resist. I listened to her gloat about her lack of pain til I could listen no more, then I dropped the bomb. "Mom, I put morphine in your cranberry juice."

She was shocked. Maybe appalled. When I brought her water later in the day, she asked if it was "laced" and eyed me suspiciously. I said no, then told her that was the last time I would answer that question. I'm not going to lie to her, I'm just not going to answer. Mom asked, "What if I stop drinking?" I told her that was up to her.

I hope I haven't started a war. I probably should have said nothing. Too late now.