Owls and Orchids

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Recollections of that Christmas are strange, some vague and others thrown into stark relief. At times I felt alone in a darkness so profound I wondered if I would ever emerge again. I can remember desperately wanting to make it as happy and carefree as possible, easy and light, a remembrance of all the beautiful Christmas’ we had spent together. Above all it had to be as far removed from the reality of the situation as possible.  Despite the strain in Mum’s face, she was happy. Her family were around her and the love was overflowing. It was all I could have asked for. I was grateful my prayers were answered.

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As though Christmas had never occurred it was back to ‘normal’ as soon as the New Year came around.  Hubby had spent plenty of time fuming over my response and as a result I wasn’t too surprised when, early in the new year, he advised me he wasn’t interested in trying to make a go of things, he wanted a divorce. It was a bad move on his part. I had a strong feeling that I should move and quickly. I haven’t felt such an urging before so I did exactly as he asked. As soon as the courts opened for business in the new year I went in, filled out the paperwork and less than three months later it was all over. He got his divorce finalised (the decree nisi) on his birthday. It wasn’t planned that way by me, but I have a feeling Spirit, and of course Dad had a lot to do with the speed of things. I had more important things on my mind. The darkness was drawing in. I also decided to change my name – I needed to sever the ties to him completely.

In early March Mum was rushed back into hospital and we, at least I, had been told that she wouldn’t be going home again. She hated the hospital and couldn’t rest. I was called earlier each day because she was calling for me, so I was there from 5am or earlier until 7pm when my brothers arrived for their hour-long visit! All day I made sure she received her morphine shots to ease the pain.  When they wore off during the night she was too ‘out of it’ to ask for more. My brothers thought she was doing okay because they only saw her after a day with regular pain shots. She was alert and pain free for their short visit. They refused to accept how dire the situation was. Several falls from bed and very nasty injuries and the hospital talked hospice. Mum was terrified since, even in her muddled state, she was aware what it meant. She wouldn’t be going home. It was prophetic that she had always said she would die in a hospital and that had made her more concerned about hospital visits during her life.

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I was taking some enormous risks. I wasn’t sleeping, hardly eating and began having strange ‘black outs’ as I was driving to the hospital. At 120km/hr it was scary, and yes I was exceeding the speed limit.  They had begun when she was at home but I wasn’t going to say anything. She needed me with her. I was the one who bathed her and changed her clothes, helped her into and out of bed. I held her hand and prayed as I sent Reiki into her frail body. I think by then I had stopped thinking about anything else. I had to be there.

The day I was informed she was being transferred to the hospice was horrendous. I had been there again since 4am after she had fallen from bed and had seriously hurt her arm. It was heart wrenching to see the nurses try to dress the wounds, finally admitting when they couldn’t remove the dressings that it didn’t matter if they were changed.  My universe was collapsing.

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The day was a nightmare.  The ambulance transfer was a trip from hell. Once we reached the hospice I helped get Mum changed and into her new bed. She curled up and “went to sleep.” I continued to give her Reiki until my brothers began to arrive.  They arrived around 7pm. After a half an hour they decided to leave since Mum was obviously “asleep”. My gut told me to stay. My car was back at the other hospital. Despite knowing I shouldn’t leave I allowed myself to be persuaded to go to my car and go home. Something inside screamed at me to stay, but out numbered and feeling cornered I felt I had no choice. I was so wrong and I can never forget that.

I debated, for the longest time, about going back to her, but I hadn’t seen my children and I was feeling drained. I arrived home as the phone began ringing. My mother had passed away ten minutes after I left her. I don’t remember the drive back, only coming back to myself when I arrived at the hospice as saw my brother there. I was angry. He had arrived first and had decided to sign all the paperwork. He didn’t want to stay at all. He didn’t want me to stay either, but he did want me to go back to Mum’s house with him  (where he was living) to talk about what ‘we’ had to do. A new nightmare was about to begin, one which would threaten to drown me.

image from bleeding_eye_by_flauschvampire91

That walk through Mum’s front door felt like a knife wrenching through my heart. Inside my head a scream reverberated. I wanted out! I wanted a little space to think! I needed to find something to hold onto! I was adrift in uncharted waters and I was drowning already. Somehow, some way, I had to find how to keep going and stay sane. I felt I was faced with a stacked deck, just how much that was true was to come to light soon enough.

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Next week – A New Nightmare Begins.

© Susan Jamieson 2013