We got to the hospital and spoke with the check-in
nurse. She seemed to think mom should
see a doctor. Thank God. So she admitted my mother and asked us to
have a seat in the waiting room. My
mother wouldn’t sit. She kept looking at
the pictures on the wall, moving quickly from one painting to the next. We
were looking at a serene, yellow meadow and she said that it was a picture of Phil. That was the color Phil was when he
died. My mother had been in the hospital
room with Phil when he passed away. I’m
told Phil did not go easy into that goodnight.
And my mother watched him suffer into death. She watched as his organs failed one by
one. She watched him turn yellow as his
liver died. She watched him grasp for
each breath until his last. She is now
trapped with that image for the rest of her life and on this day she cannot
seem to escape it. We were finally taken
to a hospital room in the emergency center.
Someone came in and began asking my mother questions. My mom answered her questions and then she
left the room, leaving my mom alone with Vicki and me. Suddenly, my mother’s entire demeanor changed
and she became lucid for the first time in my adult life. “Why aren’t I normal?” she asked me, looking
into my eyes as if I had the answer. “I
just don’t want to be a burden to you.”
At these words I let out every emotion I ever had about my mother and
just cried. It was finally clear to me
that my mother was never capable of choosing to leave Phil. She needed him for survival. She was sick and couldn’t ever take care of
herself, let alone her child. I felt all
my hatred for her leave my body as if it had been possessed all these years
with an evil spirit. Then panic set
in. What if she was lucid when the
doctor came in? Then they wouldn’t keep her. Then as if someone flipped a switch, she
jumped up and lunged for the door screaming she needed to go see Phil. The hospital staff heard the commotion and
came in to help hold her down. Finally,
they had to shoot her with a sedative and down she went. She wouldn’t wake again until the next
morning.
I think there are many of us out there reading your entries and feeling guilty that we want to read more. I want to read more because you have been through an incredible journey, and I want to follow it through to the present. You truly have a way with words. You are able to put us right there in the situation and feel what you were feeling at that moment. Please keep writing, even if the comments are low in number. It's a catch 22 to have to admit that we want to read your story.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for these kind words.
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