Rest in peace: Barbara Simon Bradley

My mom passed away just after lunch, today.  She was 61. Mom died of liver failure, caused by cirrhosis, brought on by nonalcoholic steatohepatitis (NASH).  She was diagnosed on December 7, 2006.  But, by that point, she was already too weak for doctors to place her on the transplant list. Over the next two years, mom’s health took two steps backward for every step forward.  She was in and out of the hospital several times, eventually landing at Providence Marianwood nursing home in Issaquah last June. During the last couple weeks of her life, mom declined rapidly.  She stopped eating a week ago.  We stopped treating her illness in favor of making her comfortable on Monday.  And, starting on Tuesday, the nursing staff began to tell us that she could go anytime.  She hung around for another four days. Apparently, she was waiting until she could be alone with her three boys.  This morning, James (her husband), Mike (my brother), and I sat in her room, sharing our favorite memories of her.  We cried a little; but we laughed more.  I think she took it as a sign that we were going to be okay.  It gave her permission to slip away. At lunchtime, Mike and I left the room to help Jill feed the twins.  James took his lunch with her.  Afterward, he came out to check on us.  When he returned, ten minutes later, she was gone. Previously, mom expressed to me anxiety about dying.  There was no sign of it, today.  Rather, after her passing, I experienced a very deep calm.  I felt that she was at finally peace, finally resting after years of pain and suffering.  Her body failed her, but not her spirit. The family is planning to get together to remember mom sometime this summer.  We don’t have specifics, yet.  I’ll publish them here when we do. In the meantime, Jill and I plan to make donations to the following organizations in mom’s memory: Mom lived at Providence Marianwood for the final nine months of her life.  The level of care and compassion she received was simply outstanding. Swedish Medical Center is where mom first learned of her liver disease.  She spent a week in the hospital, including three days in the ICU.  But, mom and James had only been back in the states for a week.  They did not have jobs.  They did not have insurance.  There was no way for them to repay Swedish for services rendered.  Swedish Charity Care paid for everything. While mom did not benefit directly from the work of the American Liver Foundation, we hope that others will. Rest in peace, mom.  We love you.  We'll miss you.  We'll see you when our times come.

Please say a prayer for my mom...

My mom is terminally ill.  She has cirrhosis of the liver, caused by a condition know as NASH.  And, recently she took a turn for the worse.  Since last Friday, she's been in a semi-conscious state brought on by extremely high levels of ammonia in her blood stream - a condition known as encephalopathy. She is able to respond to simple voice commands.  She can answer yes/no questions.  And, she's eating when someone feeds her.  But, she cannot carry on a conversation.  She cannot answer anything but yes/no questions.  And, her eyes, vacant and glossy, look right through you when you do manage to get her attention.  She spends most of her time in a sleepy haze of pain (from various bruises and sores related to spending all of her time in bed) and itching (from the toxins in her blood stream coming out through the skin). The treatment for this condition is a medication called lactulose, which traps the ammonia created during the digestion process in the colon, before it has a chance to be absorbed into the blood stream.  Mom is on a high dose of lactulose now, as she has been for a couple of years.  And, between last Friday and last Monday, her ammonia level dropped by almost 100 points.  But, at that time, it was still over 160.  (Healthy people have an ammonia level below 35.) At this point, the prognosis is mixed.  Mom could "wake up" tomorrow, regain some or most of her cognitive abilities, and go on to live for many more months or even years.  Or, she could stay in this sleepy, itchy, painful purgatory, eclipsed by this veil of ammonia.  Or, she could fall into a complete coma, stop eating, and die.  There's just no way to know.  What we do know is that if she stops eating, she will pass away from malnutrition within two to three weeks. We've known this was a possibility ever since mom was diagnosed back in December, 2006.  We hoped that she would qualify for a liver transplant.  But, unfortunately, her disease was already too far along when it was detected.  She was never deemed strong enough to survive the operation, and was therefore never placed on the transplant list.  Now, she's being placed on a different sort of list - she's being placed in hospice. I know my mom loves me.  And, I know she knows I love her.  But, I would dearly love the opportunity to tell her one more time, to share one more laugh, and to hug each other and cry together one last time, as would all of her friends and family. Please say a prayer for my mom.  May God bless her.  May God ease her pain.  And, may God share our thoughts and prayers with her so they might give her solace on her journey from us to Him, no matter how long it takes.