You know, it's been a long day and not one I would have chosen if I'd had a say in the matter and of course I'm extremely sorry that my mother broke four ribs but the fact of the matter is, she did, and I don't know what the results of such an injury are going to be beyond a long spell of a lot of pain for her but having said of all of that in such an awkward and clumsy way, I will say that it hasn't been the worst day of my life and probably not of hers either.
Morphine must be awesome. Except for when Mother tried to move or cough, she was not in pain. Now, moving and coughing are a problem even with the morphine but she was able to rest comfortably in the bed in the ER and everyone there was completely kind and thoughtful and attentive and gentle and efficient. Well, efficient until it came time to find her a bed because they want to keep her overnight but they finally have. And I left before they did that because six and one half hours in a small room with my mother was about all I could handle, plus I am still sick and my brother who lives in town came up and took over. Mr. Moon was there with me for quite awhile but then he went and babysat for our boys.
I will go back tomorrow when they're talking about releasing her if all goes well. There is an extended care part of the Assisted Living place where they have dedicated nursing staff and she will be there for some time, I presume.
So. There was that.
And then when I got home I had a very, very long talk on the phone with my brother who lives in Washington state and that went better than any conversation we have had in memory. I am serious. We both backed up to a wall a few times but no guns were drawn and no blood was spilled and we both listened to each other and we both now understand each other a little better than we did before, I think, and we laughed a lot. At one point I yelled, "We have a breakthrough!" and it was true. Because he and I know that we love each other and that we are blood even if no one in the world makes him as angry as I do (frequently right here on the blog which he reads) and no one on this earth makes me as angry as he does but underneath it all we are very similar in many ways and the bottom line is, no two children are ever raised by the exact same parent even if they are raised in the same house by the same person.
So. That was pretty fucking awesome.
And I am more than grateful for that.
I do not know what the outcome of Mother's fall is going to be. She is going to be eighty-six this year and it seems as if right now there are a myriad of problems which is she is dealing with. The cellulitis she was diagnosed with a few days ago (and which is responding quite nicely to the antibiotic) and with the rash that they've tested her for and with her chronic dizziness and nausea. Not to mention the mental issues. Is this the true beginning of a downward spiral or has she been on one for awhile? I do not know but I suspect the latter. We will have to play this one out day by day and see what happens.
Aging sucks and there are no two ways around it. If she was a really happy person in her circumstances, I think I would feel differently than I do but she is not, to be truthful. She lives in the best place she could possibly live at this point in her life but she knows that she has lost her independence, she knows she is not the woman she used to be and she hates all of that. I wish for her sake that her heart would simply stop beating one night as she sleeps and I would wish that for all of us. We cannot, however, dictate these things and her father lived to be almost 92 and her mother to the age of 89 and genetics are huge when it comes to life span.
This morning, when Mr. Moon and I were on our way to the hospital, I told him thank-you for coming with me, for being such a good man and helping so much with my mother. "It's just life," he said. "We deal with it as it comes."
God, I wish I was more like him. And god, I am so grateful he's my husband.
And you know what else I am grateful for? The fact that I can write these things out and that I have a community of people who respond to me, not just in circumstances like this, but when I write of my childhood and of difficulties in family and with those very particular and almost mythical relationships and who make me realize beyond anything that yes, we all go through shit in our lives that lead us to where we are and that we (or at least the people here, you, yes, YOU) try to make sense of it all, try to end cycles of destructiveness and that when we share these things, when we recognize our commonalities and our fears and our sorrows and our joys too, that we are all made stronger and more aware and...less alone.
And maybe even a little bit that my brother reads these words I write and can know me better through them. Yes. That too. Because I love him.
Now. Poor Mama. Her pain is going to be intense and her healing is going to take awhile. And it's not going to be fun and it's not going to be easy. But as Mr. Moon said, this is life and we deal with it.
But not alone. We have each other. Some bonds are blood-born, some are forged, some are more fragile and less tangible but each and every one of them is part of how we go on.