Sade’s King of Sorrow is playing in my head. You know what that means, right? I’m having a moment.
I hate this. I can’t tell you how much it sucks. I’m sitting in the hospital. My mother has been here since Tuesday. She still can’t walk. The therapist came this morning. She was having some trouble. My sister and I got kicked out of the room. Sister left, but I waited outside the room door. It was probably half an hour later when I was let back in. I asked the therapist how it went. Not very well. She made some steps, but was very painful. She felt stiffness. Not good. The therapist told me to encourage her to move her legs. I friggin’ HATE MS. Did I tell you that? And this ish is progressive. Just gets worse. How there is no cure for these abominable conditions, I don’t know. Well, I DO know, but that’s another thing. Entirely.
She’s still in huge amounts of pain. Even with all the medication being pumped into her. She’s also having random crying spells. She was eating boiled fish (like a clear fish soup Bahamian’s like – I hate it), and said it was cold. I got the nurse to heat it up. When she came back with it, my mother said, “That’s the food you just heated up?” The nurse said, “Yes.” There was a brief silence, and the nurse said, “You forgot?” That was it. She started crying. The nurse said to me, “Sometimes it can be overwhelming,” as she gave her tissue. As she left, she said, “You take care of your mumma. She’s a special lady.”
This sucks, guys. It’s ridiculous to see a person – your mother – laying up in a hospital bed (or sitting in a hospital recliner like she is today), unable to walk without a walker, and the assistance of other people… Particularly when you’re used to the person being self-sufficient.
Seriously, she’s delirious a lot of the time. Incoherent. She doesn’t understand some things. Some things she says, I have trouble hearing and/or understanding. She forgets things. My grandaunt was here earlier. I met her here. (We’d arranged for her to come early today, so that I could sleep a little, and then come an hour later.) She was probably here for about 2 hours. About an hour after she left, my mother asked me, “What Gloria say?” I sort of looked at her quizzically, and asked, “What? What do you mean?” She said, “What did Gloria say? When she was here…” I was confused. I just told her that she didn’t say anything. She was just here, and she took her clothes to wash. Sister was still here at that point. She kind of laughed and said something like, “[Name she calls mother], she was just here. You forget already?”
I don’t think it’s funny. None of it is funny. It annoys me when people laugh. It annoys me when people talk about her when she’s right there, whether they think she’s out of it or not. It annoys me when people say things like, “She look bad, hey?” Like, seriously, people. Get a grip. Shut your friggin’ mouth. If you’re not here to help and/or support in some way, just leave. This isn’t Entertainment Central. She is an actual PERSON. Her hearing is FINE. She doesn’t need to hear you saying that she looks bad, or isn’t doing well, or make her feel stupid, or laugh at her condition.
I get that people deal with things in different ways. Still, I know that there are definite WRONG ways. And they annoy me. It is really disturbing that people can be so insensitive. Unfeeling. Stupid. Barbaric. I don’t feel like dealing with all of that ON TOP of this situation. I think this is all of the SUCK that I can take right now.
And HOLY HANNA, I am TRYING to be a big, brave girl. Seriously. I’m not showing my fear or sadness. I just come here, sit down, and maintain a noral facial expression. I fight tears all day long. I avoid saying negative things. I try to think positively. More than anything, I try not to cry. I try especially hard not to let anyone see me cry. Well. Last night, I broke down. I had my Wendy’s dinner, and after a few spoonfuls of my chocolate frosty, I just cried. I sat at the table with my hand covering my face, and let the tears roll. It was hard to let myself just cry. Babe was there, and I’m sure it was awkward. I didn’t look at her at all. And I didn’t really want her to look at me. I felt like an idiot, sitting there, crying over my frosty. She let me have a moment, and then she came and hugged/held me. She let me cry, and told me that it was okay. She said she knew that I was being strong and brave for my mother, and I was doing well. She also said that I don’t have to do that when I get home. Isn’t that nice?
It’s weird that it’s not just sadness. It’s actually GRIEF. Something has been lost. Is gone. Is no more. There’s no certainty that it will return. I look at her now, and I don’t see my Mummy. I see a shell. Her body is there, but her face is not the same. It’s some other face. I don’t really recognize it. It’s covered by sadness. And confusion. It changed so quickly. Will that happen again? Will her face go back to normal? Will her brain be the same? Will her memory be restored? Will she be able to walk again? Will she ever be happy again?
Questions, questions, questions. I don’t see any answers. Therapists, nurses, the doctor… None of them have answers. Just hopes. And vague it-will-take-time statements. Like, thanks a lot, dude. That helps. *flips the bird* (Honestly, I don’t flip birds. I have never flipped any birds in my life.)
I’m the only person here. I keep wondering where the hell everyone else is. I guess they have important things to do. Maybe some of them would rather not see her like this. I don’t know. The bottom line is that I’m here by myself. Well, with her. And I feel alone. Can you imagine how she feels?