I arrived last night at mom's bedside at the hospital. I will return again today. Taken time off. The doctor is pleased with her fighting the pneumonia with aid of antibiotics and she is breathing better. She has also eaten a yogurt! First little bit she ate in days... but she is so quiet and a bit anxious last night. It bothered me since he has taken her off the 1/4 anxiety med pill as well.
Oh! How do I confess my thoughts... I am pleased and relieved she is a bit better (most probably due to the fluids she gets now) but I am distressed to know we start her downward path all over again and she may need to return to the frail care home. And I feel utterly guilty for even thinking this... the mixed emotions; for wanting her battle to rather be over. And then again, for wanting a miracle that brings her back to my elegant mom that bakes the most wonderful chocolate cake and entertains in delicate english tea sets. Why is it that when it goes better, it feels today that it is going worse? I pray for miracles. But this damned illness brings us false hope. I will not lie to my mom about her feeling better. I tell her it is good to say goodbyes to everyone, because anthing can happen to anyone, but we know God is always with us no matter what. That helps.
Tomorrow my brother arrives from up north. He may say she looks better than I told him when I said it is time to come. It stresses me out in itself. She is only better because I opted for the fluids so she could possibly get to see him for a last time. (He told me in an accusing voice that it is not the first I thought it was the end. I resent it that he has so little compassion with me in this space? He told me I have always been a bit of a martyr. I wish he never said it... It was so unnecessary and feels to me that he wants to find a way to justify his own absence - it's been two years since he visited my mom. I love him dearly but have lost respect for him, I am sad to say).
Then I will have peace to instruct them to remove the fluids... and we travel down this road one more time. Surely! I cannot hospitalise her again. I pray these decisions are the right ones. But how I wish she could have remained here in hospital until the end, and not go back to frail care to dehydrate and pass on - the place where I do not seem to see the compassion so much needed, and so desired for her.
I love you mom. Forgive me if I get this wrong. I have a few online friends here. It is OK that they know...
Oh! How do I confess my thoughts... I am pleased and relieved she is a bit better (most probably due to the fluids she gets now) but I am distressed to know we start her downward path all over again and she may need to return to the frail care home. And I feel utterly guilty for even thinking this... the mixed emotions; for wanting her battle to rather be over. And then again, for wanting a miracle that brings her back to my elegant mom that bakes the most wonderful chocolate cake and entertains in delicate english tea sets. Why is it that when it goes better, it feels today that it is going worse? I pray for miracles. But this damned illness brings us false hope. I will not lie to my mom about her feeling better. I tell her it is good to say goodbyes to everyone, because anthing can happen to anyone, but we know God is always with us no matter what. That helps.
Tomorrow my brother arrives from up north. He may say she looks better than I told him when I said it is time to come. It stresses me out in itself. She is only better because I opted for the fluids so she could possibly get to see him for a last time. (He told me in an accusing voice that it is not the first I thought it was the end. I resent it that he has so little compassion with me in this space? He told me I have always been a bit of a martyr. I wish he never said it... It was so unnecessary and feels to me that he wants to find a way to justify his own absence - it's been two years since he visited my mom. I love him dearly but have lost respect for him, I am sad to say).
Then I will have peace to instruct them to remove the fluids... and we travel down this road one more time. Surely! I cannot hospitalise her again. I pray these decisions are the right ones. But how I wish she could have remained here in hospital until the end, and not go back to frail care to dehydrate and pass on - the place where I do not seem to see the compassion so much needed, and so desired for her.
I love you mom. Forgive me if I get this wrong. I have a few online friends here. It is OK that they know...
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