An Unexpected Loss

How a sudden accident left a young daughter holding her mother’s life in her hands

This is Jamaica’s story as told by Suzette Sherman. Our “Opening Our Hearts” stories are based on people’s real-life experiences. By sharing these experiences publicly, we hope to help our readers feel less alone in their grief and, ultimately, to aid them in their healing process. In this article, we share the story of a daughter who faced the difficult decision to withdraw life-sustaining treatment after her mother suffered a serious head injury from a fall.

When it happened, I had no idea my mom was in Florida. My Aunt Janice found her. She was lying on the floor in my uncle’s kitchen, no cups broken, nothing disturbed, no blood or anything; she lay reaching for the phone with a twisted ankle. Apparently she was making lunch for everyone. We think she was up on a counter and slipped, hitting the back of her head on the marble countertop. It was an extreme accident that came out of nowhere, an unexpected death. It made me realize how fragile life is.

I was 29, and I immediately flew to Florida. The doctor told me she was in a coma from a subdural hematoma. And that’s what they say to you, in a matter-of-fact way. But they are very gentle. I could tell my mom was slightly clenching her teeth. She was in a locked-in coma, which meant she was conscious. I told them she was in pain; they gave her painkillers, and I could see that her face became more relaxed.

They said, “Oh you’re her daughter, her next of kin,” and they had me fill out paperwork. I thought I couldn’t even write three words from the shock of things. They told me I needed power of attorney and I faxed my older brother Che. He was repressing his feelings and so was happy to sign the power over to me. We made a deal: I would take care of all of the decisions for Mom, and he would deal with the house and things. I’m not sure it was a good deal but he did sell the house and all. I took a photo of her all hooked up to the tubes and sent it to Chet. It really upset him. Now I realize I was coping. I just wanted him to see that she was okay.

For many days we had no idea where her purse was. Here it was that my mom was in a coma, and I was thinking something simple like “Where’s her purse?” The hospital had mailed her clothes and purse to her home, but no one was at her house. It was fairly abnormal. I could feel the burden of having to start from square one. Fortunately my father, who was divorced from my mother, was pretty supportive.

A month and a half later, the doctor told me my mom would probably not wake up, and if she did she’d be a vegetable. I flew to Florida for the second time. I consulted with him about the injury, the impact and what had happened. He explained the three surgeries he had performed to try to close up the bleeding. Nothing worked. I felt I had considered everything; that’s when I made the decision to “pull the plug.” They told me the things I needed to do, though I do not specifically recall hospice or anyone giving me an actual list of what to do. We had to move her to a hospice facility first. They took care of everything, including transporting her there. They were there for me through my unexpected loss.

I told hospice I could do it alone– pulling the plug. But they said they needed to be there, so that’s how it happened. It bothered me that they kept asking for donations. I thought, “Help me, but don’t put your hand out.” However they were otherwise actually very helpful. When I made the funeral arrangements for her to be cremated, the funeral home treated me like a second-class citizen because they were not making any money off of me. “Oh, you only want the simple white box?” they asked.

My brother Andrew, who was 24, was in denial when it happened. He was not willing to go to therapy and would drink and then call me. He felt it was his fault. I was frustrated and wanted to strangle him. “Just go to therapy,” I said, but he refused. He recently got a tattoo almost the full length of his arm that reads “Sandra Lee Salmi Eternal Love” in flowery script letters. It made me angry. I wondered in my head, why was I angry? It was partly because he acted a martyr, and partly because he refused to get therapy. I was resentful and didn’t think my mother would have wanted him to have the tattoo.

You really need levity, humor and comedy when things seem so dark. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I saw Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth at the time and it helped me. I realized I’d made it through this, and there is a world out there and the world is bigger than this death.

Her dying, it shook the dust off of everything in my life. I felt clarity. I was so shaken that when I stopped shaking I realized I had experienced something big. For one thing, I realized my marriage was not right and I got a divorce. My mom’s passing allowed me to think bigger about my own life. It’s like any relationship–you never expect it to be the last time you see her. You just have to think of the happy times.

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