Chapter One

August 10th, 2010, 2:15am

I would like to begin this first post by saying that I am not a professional, I have no training in psychology and I make no claims to have the answers. I am simply a woman who is grieving the loss of a parent. I am starting this blog with the hope that by writing about my experience with grief, it might help me heal. And I hope that along the way others will share their stories. No one should grieve alone. Grief is painful. Grief is never-ending. But I'm told it gets easier with time. Does it?

So, I've been trying to pick up the pieces of my life since my mom died last year and the one thing that I have found is that a heart can truly be broken. A heartache is not just a great word for use in a country song. It is a real pain that will crush you to your core. I had met people who had lost their moms but until you lose someone that is a piece of you, a real part of your being, there's no way to describe what this event will do to your life. One day every piece is in its place. The next, the pieces are scattered everywhere and you don't know where to start picking them up. Its as if you have a puzzle, completed on a table. The image is clear, the shapes make sense, everything fits. Then one day someone walks in and knocks over your table. Suddenly there is no clear image, the pieces are scattered, the picture is lost. What do you do? Where do you start? What if some of the pieces have been lost or no longer fit?

May 29, 2009 my puzzle was shattered.

My mother had been experiencing a great deal of back pain for several years from a deformity of her spine. The doctors had tried everything, steroid injections, narcotics, physical therapy. None of it helped. She suffered daily, horribly, continuously. There was no peace for her, only pain. When her family was around she always put on a brave face, not wanting us to worry for her. Instead she worried about us, always concerned with our well-being, emotional and physical. Never feeling sorry for herself or asking for help.

A list of doctors later, we found the doctor who would perform the surgery that would give her back her life. A life free of pain and suffering, a life where she could walk again. She received the necessary clearances from her doctors to have the surgery and all the pre-surgical blood work was done. She was good to go and she could not have been more ready. She had suffered so much for so long, she couldn't take the pain anymore. She was so happy that we had found a doctor that could help. She had almost lost hope.

She made it through 11 hours of intensive surgery to correct the deformity of her spine and all went well. The doctor smiled while telling us how well it went. Though the surgery was long she had done wonderfully and would be in recovery soon.We all gathered our things to head upstairs to wait for our chance to see her. I was so relieved it was over. Now her pain would be over. She would go through rehab and physical therapy and within a few months we would be shopping again, she could pick up her grandbabies again, she could cook a meatloaf and pot of beans without hurting so bad she wanted to cry.

We reached the waiting room, settled in to wait for our chance to see her, some went home. We were tired from 13 hours at the hospital but happy inside because mom, the rock and center of our family, would be healthy again. Happy again. Pain free. I called my husband to let him know she was out of surgery and in recovery. He was already on his way to the hospital. He hadn't heard from me in a few hours and was concerned that something was wrong. I assured him she was fine and waited for him to arrive. When he got there we talked for a few minutes and I told him to go on home, let the pups out, I would call him later. My friend that had come to the hospital with us went with me to walk him to his car. I kissed him bye and we headed back upstairs.

When we entered the waiting room I saw the surgeon standing next to my father, and my sister was screaming, sitting in a chair in front of the doctor. My brain did not compute what was happening. I looked at my friend and then back to the doctor. I asked what was wrong. He said that after he left us in the waiting area he had come upstairs to check on my mom and when he arrived the ICU staff was trying to revive my mom. She had gone into cardiac arrest and they had been trying to resusitate her for 30 minutes, with no response. I just remember saying "No. Everything was supposed to be okay. She got all the clearances." In my head this didn't make sense. All the doctors had cleared her. She was healthy enough for surgery. This wasn't happening. But it was. I rushed to the doctor and he tried to comfort me. The room was spinning. I felt like I had left my body. I went to a phone and called my husband and sister and told them to come back. Mom is dead. Suddenly one of the staff rushed in and said, "Sir, we have a pulse and blood pressure." The surgeon, stunned, said "Are you sure?". The nurse said, "yes" and they rushed from the room. In shock, we all followed, down the hallway to the room where my mother layed, sleeping, her head so swollen from hours face down on the surgery table, tubes and lines coming from her arms, her mouth, her nose. The doctors began to explain that after 30 minutes they had stopped their efforts to revive my mom but after they had stopped and the doctor had come to tell us, she came back on her own. My mother had come back! I knew it had been a mistake. She's going to be fine. But then the truth came. The doctor explained that because she had been gone so long, her kidneys had failed and if she did wake up she would most likely need dyalisis for the rest of her life. They were checking her blood levels and they showed some improvement in the last few minutes but she was not out of the woods yet. He said that she could hear us but could not respond. I went to my mom's bedside and I took her hand. Her beautiful hand. She had gotten her nails done the day before her surgery because she knew it would be a while before she could get out to get them done again once she got home. Her nails were freshly painted, her hands so beautiful, so soft, but so cold. I spoke to her and begged her to come back to us. I told her that I needed her and please don't go. I cried, I yelled, I pleaded. My mother had nearly died in childbirth many years before and she described floating to the ceiling and then being pushed back down. Each time she would reach the ceiling, something pulled her back. She said that it was so peaceful. I told her that if she felt herself rising, please come back down, please don't leave me. Other family members came to her side and spoke to her. Finally we told Daddy to come talk to her. Within minutes of coming to her side, the doctors asked us to leave the room. They closed the door. She had gone into arrest again. She was gone. My momma was gone.
Once they stopped and called the time of death, they allowed us back in the room to say our goodbyes. Again I went to her side and I yelled for her to come back. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. After a while my husband told me that we needed to leave. What? Leave her here? How am I supposed to walk away and leave my mother here? How can you expect me to do that? I can't. I can't.
But I did. That night I walked away from that hospital a child without a mom. My suffering had begun.