A sleepless night.
I lay in bed, listening to Radiohead’s “No Surprises”, trying to let myself fall asleep.
It’s kind of a depressing song, and my thoughts turned to Mom’s last days. Specifically, the day that the hospice nurse taught us how to move Mom from her bed to the bathroom, and back again.
I could see it was a test of wills. Mom’s deep desire to keep some dignity by being able to go to the toilet, to avoid wearing a “diaper”, to keep her husband and sons from having to clean her up, versus the nurse’s obvious belief that Mom needed to give up and use a diaper.
It hurt Mom, a lot, to have the belt wrapped around her torso so that we could more easily lift her out of the bed. The whole exercise was exhausting, for her and for us .. physically and mentally.
It really hurt. Mom couldn’t help but let out a groan or two when I ineptly manhandled her out of the bed and on to the portable toilet. The journey had only been about twelve inches, but had taken every ounce of my strength, along with that of two of my brothers.
Confessions are supposed to be good for the soul, aren’t they? The above, my confession of grief for having caused Mom that pain, doesn’t feel good at all. You see, I can no longer ask Mom’s forgiveness for the pain I caused her that day, entirely needless pain.
I should have said something. That day, I believe something broke in Mom — call it stubbornness, call it pride, call it dignity — after that, she didn’t have much left. She became inanimate, almost inert, with a tube placed in her body to help dispose of her urine.
For me, it was beyond sad. I know, it’s just one more thing she accepted on her journey to the stars… but it grates on me still, to this day. I wish that I could beg her forgiveness for my part in her pain, in her suffering. I tell myself that I was only trying to help, but true help would have been me speaking up, expressing my doubts that this was the right course of action; I should have refused to do it.
It’s too late to ask Mom’s forgiveness. Regrets.
Yeah, you said it already but I’ll say it again… You were only trying to help. Sounds like a cliche’ doesn’t it – something easily said but maybe deep down maybe it’s not really what’s meant – or maybe it feels like an excuse…
Anyway, dude – let yourself off the hook. This was something mom wanted – not something you forced on her. For the other side of the story, ask me… I did speak up and I still feel like maybe my speaking up was viewed as a lack of compassion or at the very least – not being helpful or agreeable. Like maybe I was ‘inconvenienced’ when I was called out there to help. I guess I saw things from another angle due to going through some of it with Mike. I know they’re totally different people – in every way – but I can’t help making some comparisons and I think that is what the nurse was doing. Comparing moms strength and abilities to that of previous patients and basing her recommendations on that experience. Remember, this nurse was not her regular one so was unaware of moms level of strength – and maybe even her regular nurse would have tried it just to observe – who knows. I for one am glad she made that recommendation that day, it confirmed my belief that she should not be using all her strength just to go to the bathroom. A
Anyway – try not to take it too personally. We all made mistakes but we did the best we could and I think mom truly knows that.
She’s been on my mind more and more lately too.
Tom
Comment by tom — September 2, 2010 @ 9:30 pm