Funny how life is. You can be so happy with new beginnings–only to be dropped a big bombshell that makes you wonder about the end.
On Monday I get to start in a new school, a new class, new students…I thought what a good beginning to the new year. All the things I can do! All the new opportunities out there! I was going to be more organized, more on it, more prepared for what’s out there and all its expectations. I was looking forward to Monday.
Then I learned that my mother will be admitted into the hospital on Monday for an emergency heart procedure. She’s had 2 in the past, they were such an emotional rollercoaster ride. One minute, she takes a turn for the worst, and it’s quite a sobbing moment…then all of a sudden, she’s good and it’s looking up. It was so hard. She was in ICU for 3 weeks. I don’t imagine anyone likes seeing their mother so fragile. But I was a wreck, especially since my father had just left her a few months previous. I hated my father for putting her through the divorce so he could marry his new, young girlfriend. I secretly blamed it all on him.
The whole time she was in the hospital, I could not go to work. I was just a sobbing mess, even when doctors said she was doing better. He had said she had had a minor heartattack, and her heart was damaged. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Even when she was finally released, she couldn’t do much, and I hated seeing that.
But after a few months, she seemed back to normal. My niece was born 3 months after my mom’s heartattack, and she was just overjoyed with a new grandchild. Sometimes I think it’s what willed her to pull through the whole thing–she didn’t want to miss her new grandchild. By the time my niece was born, you wouldn’t have been able to tell my mom was close to death 3 months before.
Then things looked up. She couldn’t walk up stairs any more without having to stop and rest between steps. But everything seemed hopeful, a new beginning.
She made it through 5 more years. She saw the birth of another grandchild (my son) and the wedding of my youngest sister. I know she’s anxiously awaiting more grandchildren. Hopefully that will pull her through this time.
In the past months, I noticed her seeming more weak. She had to rest a lot, because she was getting chest pains. She seemed resigned to the fact that she’d have to get another angioplasty, but never told my middle sister and I…just the youngest. I noticed she couldn’t carry my son any more–he’s heavy at 30 lbs!–and she walked more slowly than normal. But I didn’t think it warranted another procedure! Even my other sister was lamenting the fact of how she’d drop off her kids at my mom’s house, not knowing she was feeling at all unwell. She regrets it…and I regret things too. But I know I should stop thinking negatively…I just can’t help it.
This time will be a bit different because I now have my son. He’s at the terrible two stage, so I’m afraid to bring him to the hospital. He’s so adoring of my mom, he’ll want to jump into bed with her, nevermind she’s all hooked up to machines. He won’t understand why she can’t carry him. And while before, I could cry all I wanted, because no one was around…I can’t now. All the pent up emotion is getting to me.
Anyway. It’s been a hard night. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know how I can start school next week, knowing that my mom is in the hospital. I can’t concentrate, and won’t be able to get off to the great start I wanted. I kinda don’t want to go in, but can’t expect a sub to take over that hard first week. But family is way more important to me. I just keep hoping things will be good and she’ll be out soon, but knowing how fragile her body is and how things can change at the drop of a dime, I can’t help but keep being reminded that it might not all end very well…