Sunday, January 08, 2006


I hate the fucking hospital. I'm tired of it. Although I'm sure my mom is much more tired and even saying I'm sick of it makes me feel like an ass.

We have been on an emotional roller coaster for the past week. Last Sunday my mom was just about on her last breath. The nurses and doctors said that it could be a matter of hours. My aunt came in town, my sister came in town, my brother and sister-in-law came in town. We camped out in the room. Her blood pressure was extremely low. Her blood-oxygen level was WAY below normal. She had so much congestion in her chest that she could hardly breathe.

This all came about because on Saturday night she climbed over the bed railing and fell on the floor. She's NOT allowed out of bed but has been completely obsessed with going to the bathroom. SO, when she falls out of bed three nurses came to put her back in. She was NOT happy and completely FREAKED. She screamed for 7 hours. They had to sedate her.

We thought it was the end and that she had given up. My aunt was telling us we needed to tell her it was ok to let go and say our goodbyes. There was alot of turmoil.

But then on Monday, my mom came out of it. Although she was on so many painkillers that she was hallucinating, her vitals were better. But then she started talking about how the nurses tried to kill her and asked every one of us how we could let them do that to her. Every new person that came in the room got the story and retelling of the story resulted in hysterics. This story was told about 4 times a day. It was extremely heartbreaking and wearing on the soul. But she started fighting...and eating again. She would wake up and make us laugh or ask if we were in the mall or what store we were in. How we pulled off getting her to the movies...her perception and reality were not there.

The doctor was hopeful and said if we could get her eating she might get to come home. We got her out of the bed and she sat in a chair for a few hours on Thursday night. Then Friday it was bad again. Backsliding. One step forward, two steps back. Crying all the time, vitals weren't great, wouldn't eat.

As of today, she was doing so-so. Ate a bit but pretty much cried all day long. Just sobbing. I don't know how people do this, I'm not cut out for this.

And all the while I'm thinking how I need to get out of there, I've got cabin fever. I need a break. And then I'm feeling like an asshole because at least I have a choice. She doesn't.

If you ask anyone that knows me, I'm one of the least selfish people you'd meet but I'll be damned if I don't feel like a fucking selfish bitch lately.

Why? Well, because she's not my mom. She's not the person that I've known all my life. She's a shell of a woman trapped in a pain wracked body. She's miserable, she has osteoporosis to a terrible degree, doesn't know what's going on. My sister (who lives in Phoenix and is really wonderful) just keeps saying we need to get her home. I think she's right, but then I think "Easy for you to say, you live in Phoenix. You're not the one who has to sit here and watch her deteriorate day in and day out. You're not the one who will have to feed her, bathe her, and change her."

Now what kind of fucked up person thinks like that? I mean, of course I will do anything in the world for my mother. I love her and she is the greatest woman in the world. She would do it for me. I just wish everyone else would stop for a second and think about not only how hard it will be for my mom, but for my dad and I as well. The more I write, the more fucked up I feel about it.

Like I said, I'm not cut out for this. I'm more of the "avoidance" type person. I don't deal with emotions well. I don't cry in front of people if I can help it. I can't stand to see people in pain. I hate to see my mother miserable in a hospital bed, stuck there with nurses she fears (even though my dad was there that night and knows they didn't hurt her) and the constant reminder that she might die. Which she keeps asking.

I would love to have her home with us. I mean, if/when she dies, I want her to be home because that's what she'd want. I just pray to God that I have the strength to do it.


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