In the meantime, we tried to make the best of it and decorated for Christmas albeit on a much smaller scale. When my mother was finally able to see the doctor for a second time, she insisted someone take an x-ray of her back. The results were not good. A long career in nursing which included a severe on-the-job back injury in the 1980s had finally taken its toll. There was arthritis in her lower spine and some cartilage in her vertebrae had worn away to nothing. Now she desperately needed to see a spine specialist so an appointment was set up for next week. Again, she had to wait all that time in pain. After a couple of days of this, my mother couldn't even get out of her chair. I found myself calling 911 for an ambulance so she could go to the emergency room. It would be a long night.
I drove to the ER a few minutes behind the ambulance and after the woman at the front desk gave me a visitor's pass, she told me to have a seat in their very large waiting room. The place was almost empty except for one other person. It just happened to be an unusually quiet night. As I sat down with only the noise from a television in the background, God seemed so far away. In that moment, this hospital waiting room felt like the loneliest place on earth.
After about twenty minutes, I was finally brought into the ER to see my mother. The look of discomfort on her face was such a pathetic sight. As the hours slowly passed, the nurses tried in vain to make her feel comfortable. It was almost 4 AM when my mother was given a shot of morphine and the attending doctor eventually decided to send her home with a prescription for Oxycodone. While the nurses got her ready to be discharged, I walked into the cold early-morning darkness to fetch the car. “My life is over,” I thought to myself.
For years, I sacrificed to be a caregiver for my elderly parents only to encounter one defeat after another. So numerous were the trips to the emergency room, that I lost count a long time ago. My soul felt very empty as if all my hopes and dreams for a better life had suddenly disappeared. The nurse wheeled my mother to the curb when I pulled up with the car. We thanked her and then drove off. With my father deceased and a brother who seemed unwilling to help, my mother and I struggled to hold onto what little we had. I sometimes thought of the song, “You and Me Against the World.”
A couple of days later, my brother did come down for a visit only to see my mother doing better. After a few hours of chit chat, he headed for home without truly understanding all the anguish she had just experienced. Then as day turned to night, the pain returned and the Oxycodone she had been prescribed didn't even help. By morning, her pain was so bad, she couldn't even get out of bed. I called 911 for an ambulance again and this time the fire department was brought in to help the EMTs navigate our narrow second story staircase. We returned to the ER but the attending doctor was arrogant and didn't offer much help. He even tried to dissuade my mother from being admitted into the hospital but I said, “What I'm I going to do with her at home?! Call an ambulance for a third time?! She's in pain. The hospital is the best place for her!”
My mother was finally admitted and as doctors spent the next few days struggling to find some relief for her pain, the “case manager” was hoping to send her on her way in order to save the hospital money. To top it all off, she shared her room with an illegal alien whose visiting family was incredibly noisy and inconsiderate. During those few days, I returned to an empty house and wondered what life would be like if my mother passed away. Not even the Christmas decorations we had set up brought the spirit of the holidays close.
My mother was eventually discharged so she could get to her appointment with that spine specialist. After picking her up at the hospital, I drove directly to his office. She was in tremendous pain and needed my support just to walk. The specialist set up an appointment to inject her back as soon as possible adding that had the hospital bothered to contact him, he could have treated her a few days ago. The first round of injections did get rid of my mother's violent stabbing pain pretty quickly but more appointments and physical therapy were needed. She was able to celebrate Christmas feeling somewhat achy but nowhere near the level of pain that plagued her for most of December.
This experience was nothing short of psychological torture for me. To see a loved one in so much pain they exclaim, “How am I going to live like this?!” Being a caregiver is certainly not for the faint of heart but instead of seeing our sacrifices as a great act of love, some continue to dismiss all that we have been through. Many of us were lucky enough have a nice holiday dinner surrounded by friends and family but my thoughts and prayers are with my fellow caregivers who must travel a less than ideal path during the Christmas season.
