My mom has been moved from the psychiatric unit to the ICU. A rapid heartbeat and high blood sugar spell big trouble for someone with diabetes and a family history of heart disease. The nurse assures me that there is no need to rush to the hospital. Regardless, ‘ICU’ is a scary acronym that has left me swallowing hard all day.
Awhile ago, VP and I had coincidentally both started writing eulogies for mom. Okay, he actually started whereas I couldn’t get past the idea to do it. I want to. I want to write about the hand that reached through the water and saved me from drowning. I want to write about how she never swore at us. And about how it was the greatest thing to get my mom to laugh. I want to tell everyone how she’d say “you turkey” as she chuckled at our antics. I want her to make the yam balls she used to make at Thanksgiving that no one would eat. I want to hear her laugh again – I mean really laugh – I haven’t heard that in years. Mostly I want to preserve all of the memories with my mom that don’t start with mental illness.
In the last four years, we’ve lost a lot of my mom to mental illness and a stroke. I’m so ready for her to be out of misery. As of late, I’ve often wondered if death is the only way out of the darkness of her mind. Now that the reality of the ICU is involved, it’s clear that I’m not ready to lose the rest of my mom.
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