After my step-father (Bruce Gilchrist) died, my mother has had more freedom to travel. She has come to Connecticut for a month or more at a time to share our children, to listen and talk with them. She also kept up her summer trips to Yellowstone to continue her community of friends in that piece of wilderness heaven.
One summer (2006), she was not feeling well as she returned from her Yellowstone trip. For many years, she has suffered from ups and downs in her health. So feeling unwell was not unusual. After suffering for a while though, she recognized something as being different with this particular bout of ill-health.
In Salt Lake, her doctor recognized it as such as well. I don’t recall if on the first visit or the second, the doctor saw the need to operate on my mother’s stomach. Portions had been removed years earlier in a futile attempt to remove ulcers before it became known that they were caused by bacteria. The doctor now worried that there was a blockage that literally my mother was starving to death. The operation was hoped to have been successful, but after a few short nights at home, with my brother and others tending for her needs, my mother was back in the hospital in danger of bleeding to death. A portion of her stomach had literally died.
Her doctor recognized the situation as being beyond his capabilities. He had my mother sent to LDS hospital and referred her to the specialist in the region.
The surgery to remove the dead portion f her stomach and repair it was successful. But mother’s recovery was slow.
I had been following those developments by calling my brother, Richard and my sister, Marsha Thomas, regularly. Also, Richard had established a web page that helped the entire family stay abreast of developments. My older brother, Mark Kramer, traveled from Albuquerque to visit her.
As I checked with Richard, I counseled to determine if I was needed or not. Richard has a disability that causes him to tire easily, yet somehow he was working as a medical systems software provider and finding time to watch over my mother and serve as the primary decision-maker for her healthcare. My sister had the power of attorney. Several times, Marsha was especially concerned fearing that Mom’s death was near. Consulting with my brother, Richard presented a reasoned and grounded view of her progress.
However, it appeared that the progress was not going forward. Mom was losing consciousness more regularly, she was not lucid when awake, and eas expressing a desire to die. “Stephen,” said Richard, “it is time to come.”
Somehow, I was able to arrange a flight home. Flights on the web were cheaper than the bereavement fares offered by the airlines.
I don’t recall the connections or who I may have sat next to. I was picked up at the airport by Marsha. We had a quick bite to eat at a Wendy’s on North Temple then we drove up to the hospital and parked in the parking structure across the street.
Mother was in a unit that was like an ICU. She was in a room by herself and had a team of nurses and attendants to watch over her, to change her fluids, to check in on a regular basis.
Mom was in terrible shape. Her face was covered with a mask, her features gaunt. She appeared to be more in a drugged stupor rather that a slumber. She stirred when Marsha bustled in and announced my arrival. Mom stirred and mumbled some words.
I talked with her, treating her as if she was fully awake and able to understand what I was saying. I told her of my flight, what was going on, how my family was. I listened to her as she talked with me, trying to understand her mumbled comments. Occasionally, she would pull at the breathing mask to get it away from her face.
When she lapsed into unconsciousness, I read a bedside journal that visitors had kept. In some entries were medically-oriented, detailing the numbers of the various monitors, Mom’s physical condition, what the nurses, doctors, or attendants had done. Other entries marked the visits of family members, her brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews, as well as, the visits of her sons and daughters.
I also talked with my brother, Richard. Apparently, that night previous to my arrival, Richard had given her a blessing telling her that she was to live and blessing her to recover.
Her recovery was startling. When I came, she was comatosed, partially aware. When I left for dinner with Marsha and Reid that evening, we had enjoyed a semi-lucid discussion and she had falling into a more real sleep. When I came back that night, catching Robert and he son at the hospital, Mom was recovering even more. The next day, Saturday, she because fully aware, fully awake, fully herself. Not physically recovered, but enough so that the doctors were greatly encourage.
The following day, Sunday, as I went to Taylorsville 14th Ward which I had grown up attending, I visited with individuals who had loomed large in my youth. I was able to share news of her progress with her friends. They had much concern and wondered what to do and wanted to share and help.
I can’t remember now when I had to leave. I do remember great visits with members of my family: Richard and Heidi Kramer, Robert and Tess Gilchrist, and Marsha and Reed Thomas. I had quick visits with my aunts, Carolyn Jones and Doris Giles, and Doris’ husband, Boyd.
And it was wonderful to see the miracle of my mother’s recovery. Here was a woman at the door of death, bleeding internally, her stomach surgically reduced to a size smaller than a tennis ball, and her lungs had filled with fluid and her internal organs under attack. Both with a Priesthood blessing, under the powerful direction of the Spirit, coupled with the love a of a family surrounding her, she recovered.
I left Utah with my Mom acting like my mom. Her face, though gaunt, was animated. Though weak, she would attempt to do for herself. She told her stories, enjoyed with her usual morbid relish, discussing her medical situation.
What a blessing to me to see this. What a wonderful miracle that happened like watching a flower unfold, each motion imperceptible, but the hourly, daily progress glorious to behold.
And maybe, my visit, as requested by a righteous brother, serving to the limit of his strength, may have helped.
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