What a week it’s been. HM Queen Elizabeth II died on Thursday 8th and our lovely friend Pam died on Wednesday 14th. Sadly, they were followed by my darling mother on Thursday 15th September. So, so many of you have shown your concern over the months. So I thought it was fitting to tell you what’s happened, in Chrissie’s Final Caper.
Chrissie’s Blogs
Lots and lots of you have enjoyed reading Chrissie’s Blogs. Mum came to computers quite late on in life. Once she’d learned how to use one there was no stopping her. For years she wrote about all kinds of things – life in our house, local matters and world affairs.
Life here at Rabbit Towers carried on for some time, happy in our own strange way. Regular readers and friends will know that it’s a mad-house. There’s the four of us, working from home, with a menagerie of assorted animals. There’s never a dull moment in our home full of voices and laughter. We’ve lived together, worked together, been happy and sometimes sad together.
Last autumn, more or less a year ago, everything changed.
Down went the dominos
During 2021 Chrissie had become increasingly infirm. She finally gave in and started using a wheelchair to go out. Then standing at the kitchen worktop to do anything became a struggle. Eventually even washing her hands at the sink was too painful to her back. At the same time she’d got a bit of a cough, which turned into a bit more of a cough. Followed by a bit of a poorly do. Here at Rabbit Towers we tend to deal with things like that with common sense and TLC so we didn’t really think too much about it. However…
Then the bang came. Because she’d not felt well and hadn’t been eating she was wobbly on her legs. I watched her to the loo one morning last November because she’s little and her bed’s high. As I held her hands and she lifted her leg to climb into bed we both heard a loud bang. It just sounded like a shotgun going off and I said to her “was that you”. She said “yes”, then started screaming.
And that was that. The start of the slippery slope.
Nine Lives
Over the years mum’s had a lot of health problems, and she’s not had an easy life. But she sure had a strength from somewhere. The next year turned out to be a rollercoaster ride for all of us and my poor mum has really gone through the mill.
It turned out that the ‘bang’ was the rupture of the cartilage between her rib and sternum. Apparently it’s one of the most painful things you can do, because you have to keep breathing and it can’t be repaired. Your body just has to do the work and heal itself.
In diagnosing that, the CT scan also showed severe osteoporosis and spinal fractures. I’ve never heard anyone suffer as much as she did in those first few weeks. In the Cardiac Ward for a week, she screamed and screamed and it took some time for the medics to get the pain under control. Eventually they did, and after about a week she was back home.
Sadly, within not many days she had an infection and temperature so went on antibiotics. Those plus the morphine and assortment of other drugs were too much for her tiny frame, making her deteriorate quite rapidly. Before a fortnight was up it was clear that she needed to be back in hospital – which she really, really didn’t want to do. Eventually she realised she had to, and one dark, cold and windy night in early December ’21, off she went again.
The Longest Stay
What followed was a harrowing five or six weeks, topped off (of course) by the good old Covid pandemic. So much happened in that time and she was so, so ill. So ill that she was in a single room right next to the nurses station. There I quietly sat with her for hours on end. Despite the covid-limited visiting I had a special pass to stay as long as I liked each day. It helped that I was also helping with her care and boy did I learn a lot during those weeks.
She was delirious for some time, calling for mum and completely out of it. They pumped bag after bag of intravenous antibiotics into her, followed by saline/glucose drips, then electrolyte salts. You name it, she had it. Including a heart attack, collapsed lung, liver trouble, acute kidney failure and more. Then one day they said they’d got one final thing to try. If that didn’t work all they’d be able to do was make her ‘comfortable’.
The day after she was still there when I went to visit, still trucking on. I walked across that car park at the Vic with legs like rubber and a knot in my stomach so many times, not knowing what to expect.
Strike me down with a feather, the next thing we knew was when we got a message at lunchtime (I think the following day). Of all things, asking me to get a sausage roll from the M&S food shop, when I came at visiting time! Having my lunch at home before I set off, I nearly fell off the sofa in surprise!
Back Home Again
She wasn’t on Ward C for many more days until they’d declared her medically fit enough to come home. I remember that day, and so many others, when the nurse said she’s going home. Chrissie was last to find out – just in case the plans changed and left her disappointed! It was such a miracle that she’d survived her ordeal that the staff trooped in to wish her well – everyone was flabbergasted that she’d recovered – but not without paying the price for it.
When mum came back home she was a different person to the one who’d left here, weeks before. Although now very frail, with a serious stoop and severe heart failure to contend with, she’d still got her spirit and sense of humour! This photo is dated 24 January, just a few days after she’d come home, and you can see how pale she is.
With determination and guts she managed to get herself walking from sofa to loo, using the newly fitted stair lift (which she hated) and joining in with our day-to-day life.
Now confined to barracks and not well enough to go out, we started making videos at home, calling them ‘Chrissie’s Capers’ (hence the title of this blog). She’s as dry as a bone is my mum, and has no idea how funny she can be, which makes it even funnier!
Life carried on for a few calm weeks, punctuated with regular visits from the community cardiac nurses who also took regular bloods. The top photo on this page is from July, just after a bath and blow dry. Blood tests are like lifting the lid on your body – they tell you all kinds of things that you perhaps don’t want to know…
Chrissie’s Final Caper
By mid August it was clear to us that Chrissie’s health was deteriorating. Her already small appetite was shrinking and she was napping a lot. Considerably weaker, she was back to needing the wheelchair even to go to the loo.
About three weeks before her death, she’d given in and stayed in bed for a few days. Our corner sofa is really comfy but despite various cushions it’s not exactly good for your posture and was making her increasing back pain even worse. If you’d seen her back you’d have been horrified. The osteoporosis that we didn’t even know she’d got had completely twisted her spine out of shape, causing considerable pain.
The other curse of the infirm is obviously the commode – unpleasant when you start using them but you very quickly get used to it. One Friday morning she’d got out of bed to use it and somehow missed her grip. And in doing so, slithered onto the floor in the foot wide gap between it and her bed. This was literally minutes before I went in that morning, when I found her in a foetal position in the floor. “I’m fine” she says “don’t panic I’ve not hurt myself”.
She didn’t seem to have, there and then. Dad and I carefully got her up and back into bed. But in the next day or so it became obvious that she had hurt herself – it would be hard not to with such a frail frame. By now, she was in quite some pain and that slither would inevitably mean that this really was Chrissie’s Final Caper.
The Beginning of the End
We had the doctor out the following Monday who thought she might have fractured a rib. Obviously they don’t do anything for a fractured rib anyway, so there was no point in going through the ordeal of A&E, even if she’d wanted to. But it did mean stronger painkillers and more morphine. For someone who weighed about five and a half stone by now, she couldn’t half tolerate the good stuff!
The week after the District Nurse was back to do more bloods and then the s**t really did hit the fan (pardon my French). Underneath me I knew what was happening but when you’re so close to it you question your own judgement.
Bloods throughout the year had been telling a story of exceptionally low haemoglobin and unimpressive kidney function. There’d also been a question about whether she’d got a growth in her bile duct. We’d not pursued that one any further – even if we had known for sure she was too frail for treatment.
Now the bloods were also telling us about end-stage kidney failure. Every sip of water, every mouth of food was a whopping great big struggle by now. Not only was I feeding her, she really didn’t want anything that I was giving her and hardly taking anything in. And most days were sleepy days, punctuated with a bit of awake-time, rather than the other way round.
The next three weeks turned into a blur. I started writing this just to put you in the picture and once I started I couldn’t stop. It’s turned into a spewing of the last year – but with such a lot much missed out – otherwise it would have been a book! As I said at the beginning, so many people have been so thoughtful and so concerned. I wanted to know what had happened to the Queen – it’s only human nature to be curious. So I knew you’d want to know what’s happened to mum.
Chrissie’s Final Caper
And right up to the end I’ve coped so well. We’ve not had any carers helping us – out of choice. Just the district nursing team coming in to administer drugs (who’ve been brilliant), so we’ve done everything. And I mean literally everything. Then wasn’t the time to go to pieces. I am one of life’s copers anyway – but our first priority was to be strong and be there for mum.
She wanted to stay at home and absolutely not go in hospital, and we managed to do that for her. We’ve been careful and slow moving her in pain – with all the will in the world she wouldn’t have got such carefulness anywhere else.
Some months ago, through tears, she demanded “and when I do finally go, I go here in this bed”. And we made sure she got her wish. Thankfully she slipped quietly away at lunchtime on Thursday 15 September 2022, with me, Kevin and dad all comforting and talking to her, helping her through that last, hard step.
And then the tears came. Big, sobbing tears. Tears of relief that she was finally out of her suffering. Tears of pain that she’s gone and I’ve lost my mum. I don’t really know what to expect next and what I’ll do. Knowing me I’ll probably catch the flu or norovirus or be ill with something. One thing I do know is that I keep wanting to clean things!
Where there’s love there’s pain.
But thank you for being my mum, Chrissie. For loving me, raising me and making me the woman I am today.
We’ve been so lucky to have shared all our lives as we have. Nothing at Rabbit Towers is ever planned but life has a way of pushing you in ways that you need to go. Circumstances led us to live in our nutty commune, then different circumstances brought us to live at Cleveleys, in this wonderful place.
We’ve had a lot of pain and sadness in our life. But it’s taught us to enjoy the little things and enjoy each day as it comes. There’s been a lot of happiness here and gales of laughter, and I know you’ll be here with us forever.
God bless mum. I love you.
***
It’s my lovely mum, Chrissie Littlewood’s funeral, on Thursday 29 September. We’ll be celebrating her life with a service at 10.30am at Carleton Crematorium then heading to The Venue afterwards for a buffet lunch. Everyone is welcome to join us.
If you do plan to attend Chrissie’s Final Caper, could you please pop me a message so that we get a better idea of numbers. (Email jane@therabbitpatch.co.uk)
Family flowers only, any donations to Cancer Research or Trinity Hospice please.
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