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Out of Order

I am not usually one to participate in psycho/socio groups... not because they aren't helpful, but mostly due to my own background in neuroscience and psychology makes me already say and talk the talk already in my own mind. However, I have decided to attend a meeting of a Grief Support Group that is in my community. The fellow who runs this session has one of his degrees from the American Catholic University. I am hoping I may find the group of value.

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What can I say about my mother? She was one of only a very, very few people who knew me deep inside. Her passing makes me cry out for my loss. Only my wife knows me in that deep level. I feel abandoned, even though I do not like myself for feeling that way. It was NOT her fault. I sometimes fear it was MY fault that she died. I worked hard every day to try to keep her health stable and her medication balanced and homeostatic.

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I do not like, I do not respect, and I do not understand hospitals currently. I live in a region with what is classified as an "excellent" hospital and trauma center, yet what I have seen over the last several years makes me cringe and grimmace. A hospital is not a place of safety anymore. It is not a place where one can feel comforted that a sick loved one is being nurtured and cared for competently. Instead, hospitals are filled with overworked, burnt-out individuals (many of whom may actually care and may actually be quite competent) who simply do their "job" to the minimum standard they can get away with because it is all they can afford to give mentally and emotionally. It is truly criminal how our current hospital situation is, and I know my experience is the rule, rather than the exception nationwide.

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I feel guilty because on the last evening of my mother's life, Thursday March 1st, when I left the hospital and went home, there were several issues that occurred that make me sad and shall likely do so forever:

1. When I left, I left sad and tired. I had been up until 5:30am on Thursday morning with her at the emergency room. I then went home and slept for an hour before going to work and taught for several hours. When I got back to the hospital later, my mother was not feeling any relief of her bloated abdomen and I was concerned. Yet, her blood work showed no issues with her lungs or heart. I left the hsopital exhausted and sad and wish I would have been more upbeat for her.

2. When I arrived home, I ate, watched a brief amout of television and then attempted to call my mother to wish her good night and to tell her I loved her. She did not answer the phone, so I called down to the nurse's station and asked for help. They told me that she had requested a pain medication and was feeling very groggy and that is why she did not answer the phone. The phone lines close at 10pm to patient's rooms, and so I did not have much time as it was roughly 9:45pm when I called. I asked the nurse to please go to my mother's room and give her the phone so I could talk with her. When the nurse was their I called in and she said my mother was now sleeping comfortably and should she awaken her. I told her no... please let her sleep so she would get some rest.

3. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the couch at that point. I felt sad and defeated, not knowing what to do or expect. My wife and I both felt that things were ok because of the blood work and we expected there to be only a few day stay as they adjusted my mother's medications. So, I fell asleep as did my wife. I did not awaken on the couch until roughly 2:30. From the lack of sleep the day before, I simply woke my wife and she and I went upstairs to bed and both immediately fell back asleep. This was the first night in years where I DID NOT PRAY for my mother. I was too groggy and did not think of it. I regret this beyond measure. I hope that God is not vengeful and hope he did not do this because I missed praying for her that one evening... but given what transpired, part of me feels God is spiteful and did this because of my lack of committment and my lack of focus. It makes me angry at God, angry at myself, gives me tremendous guilt and is something I have difficulty trying to overcome.

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I called last night to have the oxygen concentrator and the tanks of oxygen removed from our home by the medical supply firm that supplied them via my mother's health insurance. Long time readers may remember my struggle with that. It is bittersweet having them removed. It feels as if I am "getting rid" of something that can help me remember her. Yet, I know it is foolish because they are not her, and were only a temporary measure for her. They will likely be gone this afternoon.

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I miss my mother's voice, I miss her smile towards me, I miss seeing the love she had that reflected so strongly from her eyes. I miss her.

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Life has lost its order. I do feel lost. I do not know if I can ever feel joy again. I only feel sorrow, pain, and grief. I so want and hope and pray that my mother (or perhaps God) will give me some sort of "sign" that is a real, true, indication to me that Mom is happy and is in heaven with all the many wonderful and departed relatives and friends including my father. I hope I will get some sort of "sign" but I am fearful it shall never be provided to me. I will never know.

PipeTobacco