Bath time
Mum looks forward to bath time like an excited girl. Almost every day she asks if there is a time slot open for her. There is only one special bathroom which caters to patients who are unable to bathe themselves at the hospice. To take a bath, you need the assistance of at least a nurse and two volunteers, so it’s a big effort and the availability is limited, and therefore mum can only get to use it one every two, three days or so.
The nurse came in in the morning and told her that she is third in line. “Do I have to wait long? Last time I waited till the afternoon…” mum said. Moments later, the nurse came back and said she did some rearranging, and mum could go first. A smile lit up on mum’s face immediately.
A volunteer auntie came in and approached me. “You should go inside and bathe your mum! Go, don’t be shy! Just remember your mum used to bathe you when you were little, and now you can help her bathe. It is a very special experience, something to remember.”
Personally, I actually am not shy about it. But I am afraid mum would be. Last time (I wasn’t at the hospital at that particular moment…) when mum bathed, brother was told to go outside and wait. I went to help get fresh linen to change the bed while mum is in the bath, and when I came back into her room, the same auntie came up to me excitedly: “You have been chosen! Your mum wants you to go in with her!” I looked at mum, and though she said nothing, there was a look of agreement on her face. Brother was in the room too, together with his wife and baby. “You should come too,” I urged him, and in the end, our whole family went into the bathroom together.
The tub was already filled with warm water, and at mum’s request it was “especially warm”. “I want to enjoy it more,” she told the nurse before she was wheeled into the bathroom. The nurse, carer and volunteer auntie covered mum’s ‘parts’ up with cloth, and slowly lowered her down into the tub. “Don’t worry, the special bits will all be covered up by the bubbles!” the nurse joked.
Mum seemed to sigh. The expression on her face was one of bliss and enjoyment. She told me before that when she is bathing, even if it lasts only fifteen minutes or so, she feels like she is drifting. Drifting and feeling very light. It is a wonderful feeling, she said. And for those few moments when she is drifting in the water, the sores, the pains, the physical discomforts seem to melt away into the warmth of the tub. Tub with massaging jets and temperature control!
My brother and sister-in-law and I stood by the side and watched, a little unsure what we could do to help. “Come! Come help wash her hair!” the volunteer auntie beckoned. I was excited, but mum looked a bit unsure. She has before complained that I cannot wash my own hair properly, so she must be thinking how I would manage to wash her hair. “Don’t worry, your son can do it. He can give your scalp a nice massage!”
Squeezing some shampoo onto the palm of my hand, I began to moisten mum’s hair. Slowly at first, as I was unsure whether mum would feel any pain, I massaged her scalp. First it was with one hand, then it was with two. I jokingly imitated what they ask at the hairdressers when they wash your hair: “Is there anywhere you need extra attention with?” At that moment, mum had her eyes closed, I later learned from a picture that was taken of me washing her hair. At that moment, with her eyes closed, mum looked like she was lost in a blissful, blissful dream…
I massaged her head for a short while, and turned to my brother: “You go!” I urged him, tried to persuade him with gestures of my foamy hands and smile. He smiled nervously, and looked very awkward. I rinsed my hands clean, and walked up closer to him. “Go on, it’s a very special experience…” Deep down, I was thinking to myself “What are you afraid of? She is our mother. This might be the first and only time you will get to do this for her…” He still looked very embarrassed, but in the end he went to stand behind mum and did what I just did. I stood by the side and smiled. Inside I was tearing, as I am tearing now. Tearing because it was so beautiful. So very beautiful…
While brother massaged mum’s head, I reached into the tub and helped scrub mum’s body. My fingers felt every bone of her ribs, felt the contours of her spine through the thin layer of aged skin on mum’s back. Mum’s legs have become so thin she can no longer stand and carry her own weight. Her hips protrude sharply and her thin arms lay by her side. Mum looked so helpless, so much like a small child who needed the constant protection and care of others. Cancer did this to her, cancer made her so frail, so ill, so thin… Cancer is weakening her body bit by bit, bit by bit…
But I smiled at mum, smiled at the experience of being able to help bathe her, clean her and make her feel comfortable and loved. Cancer can ravage her body, cancer will take her away from me soon, but it cannot ravage or take away this beautiful moment and memory created with mum and my entire family, a moment when we bonded at a whole new different level…
Back in her bed, mum smelled good, and her skin felt smooth and clean to the touch. I leaned in close and grabbed one of her arms and placed it on my cheek. Her body felt warm. “You comfortable and clean now?” Mum nodded slightly, and on her face was still the smile that could hardly contain the sensation of bliss, contentment and being at ease…
“Rest well, mum,” I said softly as I rubbed her arm against my face and kissed her hand gently, “Rest well…” Mum closed her eyes, and on her face was that smile still.
This brought tears to my eyes; to see that something as simple as taking a bath can be such a special moment. I am glad you got to experience that. And, to have pictures showing the joy you were able to hive her at that moment is priceless. I have read all your posts tonight and can feel the love you have for each other. I know this is a hard journey for all of you, but I know your mother is so proud of you, and you can be proud of yourself. You are a special son, and we can all only hope to have someone as caring and loving as you when we are sick. You have such a way with words, too. I could see you being a real inspriation to caregivers everywhere. Maybe one day you will put your posts together and write a book for those of us with loved ones affecting by cancer. I, too, found this page, not as a cancer survivor, but as a caregiver. There is so much support on here. These wonderful people have gotten me through some tough times. First with my mother-in-law, who came to live with us with hospice care. And now, my sister has been diagnosed with colon cancer. In the beginning I wasn’t sure if I belonged on BFAC. But it didn’t take me long to realize that everyone can benefit from the advice, love, and support that are offered here. I wish I was able to give you a hug, but since I can’t, please know that I am praying that they are able to control your mom’s pain and keep her comfortable. Thank you for sharing your story and helping so many others, while hopefully, therapeutically, helping yourself.