A couple of weeks ago my very elderly Mum was whisked into hospital. I’d been preparing myself for the worst and indeed it was the worst. She either had a couple of days left or underwent a huge operation with all the risks attached for a frail 92 year old leaving her with a 20% chance. She took that chance, made it though surgery but then faced with the huge road to recovery ahead of her, kinda lost the will and keep saying she wanted to just go and was in great pain. Eventually the palliative care team were brought in. So for the last couple of weeks I’ve been crying myself to sleep and preparing myself. I started to feel better about it all, notwithstanding being realistic when my siblings were hopeful to keep her going.
Anyway, this week has been a huge turnaround. Mum is in less pain and the doctor said yesterday she didn’t see why Mum wouldn’t make a complete recovery and be living independently like she was before.
Great news but why can’t I feel delighted about that. I feel like an awful person for not being delighted about it. I’m trying to figure out why. Everyone is saying how wonderful that is and how delighted I must be except I feel like I have to put on an act. I can’t help but feel we’re going to have to go through the same arduous process several more times. I have a different relationship with my mother than my siblings do.
Thank you for reading this far. I’m so lost I feel brain dead.