Its funny how certain things, fictional occurrences on telly for instance bring memories rushing back, painful ones at that. Something I saw today triggered feelings within me and reminded me of the day I lost my Mum.
She passed away on the 9th September 2005, aged 57, I was there when her frail hold on life ended. She’d been rushed into hospital the previous night with internal bleeding and by the time I got there I was told she was in a really bad way, I think they gave her a 10% chance. I was working nights at the time and to keep my mind occupied I decided to go into work. Every hour that passed I rang and each time was told she was stable and comfortable, something inside of me dared to hope she’d recover and come the daytime she’d be sat up in bed wondering what all the fuss was about. After work I got home and fixed a cuppa and readied myself for the uncertain day ahead, then the phone call came from the hospital telling me to get there as soon as possible.
Inside of my mind I knew what was coming really but something inside tells you never to give up hope, something inside you doesn’t want to believe the worse, its denial all the way, all the way of course till the gravity of the situation hits you.
On arriving I was led into a room and briefed by doctors. They told me she’d lost a huge amount of blood and because it was in her intestines there wasn’t a way back for her, in fact her brain had been starved of blood she’s been losing it at such an horrific rate, she’d lost so much blood they were concerned about keeping her supplied. Her temperature was being held aloft by a heated bed and the life support machine was the only thing keeping her alive. The doctors voices seemed to phase in and out, initially I wasn’t grasping at what they were suggesting … and that was turning the life support machine off. When the penny finally did drop I tried to reason but they clearly pointed out she was in effect dead already, only the life support kept her in this world and at any time the life support machine may be needed for someone who may come into hospital after a serious accident.
All eyes were on me, my mother’s only son and direct next of kin as my folks had divorced quite a few years ago. My mum’s partner was there, he was in a state of shock, we looked into each others eyes as the world began to fall apart around us. The doctors outlined things to me again, I took a deep breath and understood, I nodded and said we have to do what’s right, my hands trembling, my furrowed brow dripping with perspiration.
So I was led to her bedside with her partner, the process of the life support machine being switched off explained to me. I was showed the counter that monitored her blood pressure and told when it reached a certain figure she would have passed away. We held her cold tiny hands, my hand rested on her cold cheek and we watched her slip away. It was like she fought in a strange sense, the blood pressure counter seemed to remain steady for ages, then suddenly began to plummet. Hot stinging tears cascaded down my face, I must have croaked some unintelligible things, I honestly can’t recall, over the other side of the bed her partner was convulsed with tears at losing his partner, then she was gone.
Racked with internal pain my chest felt so tight it was going to explode, when the nurses finally led us away I still couldn’t believe it, it all seemed so surreal, like I was going to wake up at any time, but it was real and sadly mum was the only person not waking.
Like I said, it’s funny how things today can trigger memories from the past.
She passed away on the 9th September 2005, aged 57, I was there when her frail hold on life ended. She’d been rushed into hospital the previous night with internal bleeding and by the time I got there I was told she was in a really bad way, I think they gave her a 10% chance. I was working nights at the time and to keep my mind occupied I decided to go into work. Every hour that passed I rang and each time was told she was stable and comfortable, something inside of me dared to hope she’d recover and come the daytime she’d be sat up in bed wondering what all the fuss was about. After work I got home and fixed a cuppa and readied myself for the uncertain day ahead, then the phone call came from the hospital telling me to get there as soon as possible.
Inside of my mind I knew what was coming really but something inside tells you never to give up hope, something inside you doesn’t want to believe the worse, its denial all the way, all the way of course till the gravity of the situation hits you.
On arriving I was led into a room and briefed by doctors. They told me she’d lost a huge amount of blood and because it was in her intestines there wasn’t a way back for her, in fact her brain had been starved of blood she’s been losing it at such an horrific rate, she’d lost so much blood they were concerned about keeping her supplied. Her temperature was being held aloft by a heated bed and the life support machine was the only thing keeping her alive. The doctors voices seemed to phase in and out, initially I wasn’t grasping at what they were suggesting … and that was turning the life support machine off. When the penny finally did drop I tried to reason but they clearly pointed out she was in effect dead already, only the life support kept her in this world and at any time the life support machine may be needed for someone who may come into hospital after a serious accident.
All eyes were on me, my mother’s only son and direct next of kin as my folks had divorced quite a few years ago. My mum’s partner was there, he was in a state of shock, we looked into each others eyes as the world began to fall apart around us. The doctors outlined things to me again, I took a deep breath and understood, I nodded and said we have to do what’s right, my hands trembling, my furrowed brow dripping with perspiration.
So I was led to her bedside with her partner, the process of the life support machine being switched off explained to me. I was showed the counter that monitored her blood pressure and told when it reached a certain figure she would have passed away. We held her cold tiny hands, my hand rested on her cold cheek and we watched her slip away. It was like she fought in a strange sense, the blood pressure counter seemed to remain steady for ages, then suddenly began to plummet. Hot stinging tears cascaded down my face, I must have croaked some unintelligible things, I honestly can’t recall, over the other side of the bed her partner was convulsed with tears at losing his partner, then she was gone.
Racked with internal pain my chest felt so tight it was going to explode, when the nurses finally led us away I still couldn’t believe it, it all seemed so surreal, like I was going to wake up at any time, but it was real and sadly mum was the only person not waking.
Like I said, it’s funny how things today can trigger memories from the past.
1 comment:
I know this this doesn't and cannot help, the death of a parent is different for everybody, but, had I had the opportunity, I would have cut short the suffering of both my parents. I'm sure that my Mother [syaunch Catholic that she was] would have done it for my Dad and I would like to think that she would have wanted us, my brothers and I, to do the same for her. I have made a living will. I did this [I actualy had to do this, I didn't have a choice] many years ago. David, my other half known my feeling on lots of subjects [post mortems, organ donation, cremation, burial, and TLC- tender, loving care]. I have seen post mortems and, when you're dead, you're dead. What is the point of hackking the remains about to se how and why they died [and no matter how you died, the first thing they do is take the top of your head off, why?] Organ donation, no matter how benifitial it is to other people is just.... not right. Burial, no way. If I get to the point that I'm nolonger...well, worthwhile, as a life form, why waste medical resources on me. No only that, but, Am I going to get better? No. Why keep filling me full of morphine to take away the pain? Fill me full of [or OVER FILL me full of] morphine, and let me go.
I've seen more than my fair share of people "going". Some by their own hand, some at the hands of others, only two naturaly. All, I think, in their final moments, had they had the opportunity, would have wanted to go NOW [I think you do know when there is no coming back] without the pain and or suffering.
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