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Posts Tagged ‘hospital’

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

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.

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.

image from blog.iloveqatar.net

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.

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

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

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

I was waiting for the imminent disaster to fall on me, or us, not quite knowing what it was and thus unable to prepare myself for it. I suspected what it was, prayed it wasn’t and waited.

Time passed and things limped along, until the day arrived when Mum had to be admitted to hospital.  I can’t even begin to say why I knew this was different. The energies around Mum seemed thick and Dad’s presence was so strong. As she always had done in the past she rallied and the hospital were almost ready to let her come home – but only after we had made an appointment to see the doctors!

image from www.the guardian.com

image from http://www.the guardian.com

It really didn’t take Einstein to work out what was going to happen. We were told very simply that Mum had finally reached the terminal stage and that because of her condition she could only go home if they (the hospital) could be assured that she would have someone with her 24 hours a day. In less than a heartbeat I discounted my business, it wasn’t important, and told them I could look after her during the days. My brother, who hated living alone and had moved home before Dad died would be there in the evenings and nights. Even though he was at home, they looked to me to settle the matter.  It was my responsibility and I told them we could manage it. I was the eldest, it was what I did.

It goes almost without saying that my children were right behind me, it was their Grandma after all. It hurt to have to tell them the bad news, but I think we were all expecting it one day, we had simply hoped it wouldn’t be soon. I say soon, we had been prepared for years but when the time arrives it is always too soon. . I thought my hubby was also “on board”. They had gotten along well in the past and being embarrassed that things weren’t great at home I hadn’t talked to Mum about it. Since I was basically supporting him, and had been all along I really didn’t expect any hassles.

Is it ironic that I truly enjoyed the months I spent alone with Mum each day? When I could see how things were and had been happening every day, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done something to correct it. I didn’t like how Mum had been looked after as she became more fail. I didn’t like the fact that I was so preoccupied with my woes that I hadn’t seen what was happening when I visited. I hadn’t visited enough! So, without telling my brother I started spoiling her. I bought her things which would tempt her to eat, treats to make her smile, little gifts she wanted but he disapproved of. What he didn’t know wasn’t going to cause a problem and I wasn’t seeking a pat on the back for loving my mother.

If I could have given her my lungs for her to breathe instead of the horrible asthma attacks compounded with the emphysema – I would have. I couldn’t do any of those things. I could send her healing to ease things, so my Reiki training was very useful. I could help her through the attacks but I couldn’t stop them and I knew time was running out. She loved watching that crazy soap, “Days of Our Lives” and each time I saw that hourglass and heard the theme…..”like sands through the hourglass” I had to bite my lip to stop tears.  I bathed her and washed her hair, bought new nighties to brighten her days and a lead light lamp which caused a furor.

I didn’t broadcast what I considered small things to help her through the dark days. I loved her and it was irrelevant that I tell anyone what ‘a wonderful daughter I was’. It’s strange how people perceive things later.

We talked a lot about “afterwards” and I explained to her all I knew and believed. Dad’s scent was so strong in the house and she admitted she could feel him. She was frightened that there may not be anything afterwards, and I fear it was one of the reasons she clung on for so long, but our talk brought some measure of comfort and I could feel her accept that there may be more for her than she had feared.

A month before Christmas I arrived home after a difficult day of asthma attacks to be welcomed by this statement. Hubby, “This isn’t working out. I’ll be moving out on Friday. I’ll take my things when I’ve worked out where I’m going.”  For one second I was dumbfounded and then I blazed like a volcano erupting. I know my voice was like ice, as though I had killed something inside.

I remember saying, “Don’t think about waiting until then. I’m not leaving you in my house alone until Friday. Pack your bags and get out now. You can call to talk about the rest on Saturday. Now – GO!”

With a frosty glare he opened his mouth and I said, “Don’t think about it, If you don’t leave now my son will put you out.” (My son is a big man and was capable of doing just that, in fact he would have loved it. Which shows the level of discontent still in the house).

image from footage.shutterstock.com –

He left, I had too much on my mind at that time to worry about it. I was advised by my insurance company that if I wanted to be covered in the event of ‘things’ being missed later, I had to have the locks changed. He came back when the locksmith was changing the locks. Such was the animosity in hubby’s face that he, the locksmith, was reluctant to leave. Truthfully, I think I would have welcomed him trying anything. It would have been a distraction. I was becoming numb and anything would have been a welcome distraction.

But, the end was fast approaching.

Losing myself.

Losing myself.

Each day I felt I was losing myself. I had no one to talk to, I had to remain strong for everyone and yet I felt the cracks widening more and more.

.

Next week – Losing my way

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from agapegeek.com  St. Michael, the Protector.

“The guardian angels of life fly so high as to be beyond our sight, but they are always looking down upon us.”  ~Jean Paul Richter

For a long time now I’ve followed a morning and nightly ritual of ‘white lighting’ my family. For those who are not familiar with this, it is not imagining them struck by lightning, although there are times when I’ve been tempted.  It is a simple practice of visualising white light surrounding each person in my family. This white light is from the Universe, a heavenly source or representative for good,  whichever you are most comfortable with.  This acts as a protection ‘bubble’  around them wherever they go throughout the day. It also covers their cars when I know they are going out. (I do the same for me too!)

On this particular day, my daughter was going to Uni and then coming home. I had a strange feeling that morning as I woke up, she was definitely on my mind. Nothing dramatic, just an uncomfortable feeling the closer it came time for her to leave. I followed my usual white light routine and went about my daily activities.

As the day wore on the feeling of discomfort grew, my intuition was working overtime so much so that I went through my white light routine several times and for some reason I felt compelled to really “reinforce” her car. I was counting down the minutes until she was due to come home. When I knew she would be about fifteen minutes away I started to become fairly agitated. I was going to call her but hesitated  because I felt she would be driving home. At the same time I couldn’t shake the feeling that ‘something’ was imminent.

When the phone rang and I saw it was her number my immediate thought was that she had some car trouble and that this was the cause of the odd feelings I’d had all day. It had occurred previously and left her stranded in the middle of the night so at first, I put it down to that, yet it still didn’t feel right.

Then I heard an unfamiliar voice,  which said, “You don’t know me, but I’m Fred Smith, a lecturer at the University. You need to prepare yourself for some very bad news. I have to tell you that your daughter has been involved in an extremely serious accident. Can you come immediately?”

This was ‘IT’, I simply knew it, intuitively knew this was what had been going to happen all day. After getting the location of the accident from him I grabbed my bag and keys and flew out the door. She was near the railway line about fifteen minutes from home. I don’t have a very clear recollection of that drive, although I do recall that I made the trip in five minutes which meant I had to have broken every speed limit and either went through a number of red lights or had an angel change each one for me. It’s possible it was a combination of both, but I wasn’t going to be delayed. There was something in that man’s voice which said “HURRY!”

As I arrived at the scene I saw one car slewed around into a street on the right, nose pointing up the hill and my daughter’s car was facing me which would have been her line of travel to reach home. I knew it was her car by the colour (purple) and general outline, but there were so many people, para medics and fire and rescue people, plus their vehicles surrounding her it was hard to be sure. I was certain.

I parked on the footpath, (not allowed) and as I strode (stalked perhaps) along towards her car I saw a group of four Asians sitting next to a garden fence. I briefly stopped to ask them if they had been in the accident and they answered affirmatively, in perfectly good English. None seemed hurt, just crestfallen. Two boys and two girls. At that moment they were relatively insignificant until I found out how my daughter was.

However, I had been spied by a diminutive and rather rotund female paramedic who made a beeline towards me. She held her arms out and officiously asked me who I was. (I know the tone of an officious question!) On identifying myself as the drivers mother she peremptorily told me I couldn’t go to her, nor approach the car. I’m sure at that point that if I could produce steam from my ears it would have been blowing a siren call.

My daughter could see me and seeing me prevented from approaching became agitated and tearful. I can still barely believe she had been composed until then, probably the psychology she was studying and delayed shock. I was becoming more than a little annoyed, angry even. From a very young age I taught my children that if they could look me in the eyes and I told then they would be okay they had nothing to worry about. Psych 101 and it worked. So being restrained from approaching convinced her she was seriously hurt.

To be honest, I truly thought she might be but my intuition told me she was okay. The other vehicle had been speeding towards her on the way to Uni, and going too fast had failed to take the corner. Such was the force of the head on collision as they tried to turn that their car whipped around and the tail slammed into her driver’s door. The doors were wedged shut and her foot was trapped under the accelerator.  The engine had been shoved backwards into the cabin. Her seat belt jammed and she couldn’t reach her bag or phone, hence the call from the strange man.

As the situation became more heated, with various threats from both sides, and despite her ‘authority’ she was in distinct danger of being trounced for being in my way. Fortunately for her, a giant of a man from the fire and rescue vehicle saw what was happening and sauntered over to ‘assist’. I’m not that tall, nor am I that small; 5’7″ is reasonable for a woman, but he was huge in all his gear. My rotund nemesis beat a retreat back to my daughters car, I took a deep breath and explained what the dolt was preventing me from doing.

You see all I need to do was get to her passenger side (where there were no rescue people) and talk to her. Promising to be good, I was escorted over to the car and spoke to my daughter. As suspected she was convinced she must be seriously hurt, she had been trapped now for two hours and not letting me near her had increased her belief that death might be imminent. Calmed down, I explained I had to move back so the rescue people could get the jaws of life to open her car up and get her free.  My stalwart fire and rescue guy gave me a nice cool bottle of water. I think he hoped it might cool me down.

Ambulances came and ferried the four youths to the hospital who had all suddenly developed various ‘injuries’ and lost the use of the English language. My daughter was finally freed and I met her at the hospital. Heaven knows what that imbecile from the para medics told them but they eyed me askance from the moment I waked in.  My daughter was kept waiting for hours whilst they treated the other youths, without even having her blood pressure taken. To say I was peeved was an understatement.

By the time a nurse arrived to talk to her the other four had already left with… no discernible injuries, but they had needed  to wait for… you  guessed it, an interpreter.

Numerous scans, tests, and so forth later they rather astoundingly told me that she seemed to be totally fine, only virulent bruising across her chest and abdomen and hip from the seat belt! Incredible and totally wonderful. I know that her guardian angel were watching out for her that day and that was the only reason she was still here with me. She was very stiff and sore but we were both relieved when, with painkillers in hand, we carefully made our way to the car and I took her sedately home.

POSTSCRIPT

Several days later, whilst my daughter was resting in bed the doorbell rang. It was the insurance assessor. After bringing him inside and sitting him down he proceeded to offer his condolences. Nonplussed I asked him why. Of course it was for the tragic loss of my daughter. He had just come from the car yard where the car had been towed and seeing the vehicle was sure she had been killed in the accident. He was very abashed on hearing she was resting comfortably in her room. I’m sure it was the first condolence call he had made that turned out to be unnecessary.

My daughter wouldn’t or couldn’t believe how serious the accident had been. Eventually I relented and took her to see the car. As I helped her to approach the car, since she was very stiff by then, she suddenly froze and the blood drained from her face.  In front of her was the mangled remnant of her beloved little car. Apart from the initial damage it had been opened like a can by a can opener and looked awful. The truth finally hit home and we had to almost carry her back to my car to come home.

So, belief in Angels, the greatness of the Universe, good luck or whatever appeals to you, I know that without some assistance that day I would have lost my daughter. If not, she would have been seriously injured. There was no reason for me to feel so uncomfortable that day. It was a journey she regularly made, yet on this day it was different.  Nothing will ever convince me we didn’t have a helping hand or three. My intuition didn’t let me down.

image from http://www.impactlab.net My daughter was wrapped in the arms of an angel. I’m good with that.

The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.”  ~George Elliot

So tell me, what do you think?

A very happy and grateful Momma.

Ciao, Susan x

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