Bitterness and the Struggle Within

It’s been about a year since I left that “hospital”, and I use the term loosely.  I have been struggling with writing this blog for several weeks.  A lot of things have happened in a year’s time that have changed me for the good, and some have not changed me for the better.

I wish I could say it was all sunshine and roses, but it wouldn’t be realistic and it wouldn’t be true.  The other day, I sat down and wrote something, that I hoped would be cathartic and get things straight in my head.  It doesn’t really fit in to any one category on this blog, except to explain part of what lead me to do what I did, and what I have been going through since. I hope you will keep an open mind, this is a bit different for me.


I laid down on the mattress, and could almost fill the very same spot where my mother once laid, stricken with cancer.  Lung cancer of all things, after she hadn’t smoked in 21 years.  From June of the year before, until the following January, I cared for my ailing mother.  Perhaps I wasn’t the best caregiver, but I put every ounce of energy into it, when no one else but my father would. 


I sat in the corner in a chair every single day, ready to spring into action and bring my mother anything she might need at any moment.  Eventually, I began to realize that I had no medical training, and all of the love in the world wasn’t going to be a substitute for that.  She needed to go to the hospital to at least get some fluids.  Little did any of us know that would be the last time my mom ever saw her own room. 


I called an ambulance to take her to the hospital, but the closest hospital couldn’t handle any more patients, so we were directed to one farther away.  It was just me and my mom, no one followed, or even seemed that concerned.  Denial is a very destructive thing. 


I yelled from the front seat, “I am right here, Mom”. 


I got back a meek, “Ok”, and that was one of the last things she ever said.  We got her to the hospital, and a doctor that possesses no bedside manner whatsoever, looked at me, a young woman that was in tears already, “Your mom is a very sick lady” and walked away.  They let me see her one last time before they put that thing down her throat.  The one thing she was most afraid of.  I looked at her, and I was sobbing.  She looked up at me and said, “It’s OK…’s OK”.  I never heard my mother speak again after that.  We brought her in on a Thursday and Saturday at 7:00 PM, she was pronounced dead.  Each member of our family stood around her bed, holding on to a small piece of her. 


I will never forget that day.  I relive it like it was yesterday all the time.  That was in 2008 and I still cannot come to terms with it.  Not only was it the end of my beloved mother’s life, but it was the end of life as we all knew it to be.  As a family, we always had ups and downs, and when I consider what I have been through since her death, all I can say is that she was a saint. 


I had no idea that my siblings could be so cruel, callous, and heartless.  It wasn’t long before the mysterious death of my brother took place, ironically on my birthday.  The details are still up in the air, but let’s just say he was a lifelong addict.  I wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the family together, as I promised my mom that I would on her death bed.  Now I realize it was just too big of a task for me to take on.  These people are not children that need their hand held through everything. 

They are grown adults with a good upbringing and there’s no reason for them to treat me, or my mom’s memory the way that they do. 


Am I still angry?  Yes, of course.  It’s only been a month or so, since I severed ties with almost my entire family.  It wasn’t bad enough that they treated me like dirt, but they went to my father without me present to attempt to, I suppose “stage an intervention” because I was a big meanie.  They insinuated I no longer went to the doctor or took my medications.  I see the doctor every 3 months, and I would literally die from withdrawal without my medication every day.  Oh, and by the way, would it kill you to thank me for taking care of mom for 7 months when none of you could find it in your schedule?


It may seem as if I am just writing this to air my dirty laundry.  Believe me, if I wanted to do that, people would not remain nameless, and there would be a lot more detail.  What these people have put me, my husband, and my father through is unforgivable. 


I’m sorry, I try not to be this bitter, and I always try to find the silver lining when I blog, and for now it will just have to be that I no longer have to deal with the pain, sadness, hurt, anger, and the expectations I could never live up to as long as I lived.  I am free of harassing text messages and emails, and I have to say, I haven’t felt like I have been able to relax up until now.  Thanks for listening, and please feel free to share your stories in the comments.  I love to get feedback from my readers. 


Be well, my friends. 




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