It was hypnagogic to say the least, watching her blood pressure fall with each automatic inflation and calculation. Starring through dried contact lenses at familiar numbers. My background allowed me an understanding which most daughters may not have had the luxury, She was septic. I knew it before I called 911. I knew it the moment her temperature rang 102.8 as she shook under five blankets obsessed with how chilled her internal organs felt. I also knew what we were concerned about although no one had said it yet. Shock. A multi-organ system failure. The blood pressure drops, the heart rate increases and a loss of consciousness marks a time to stop fucking around. As I spat out the communal concern, some surprise feel across their faces. It was okay. They seemed to breath a little easier; a pressure was released. I understood. The nurse in me stepped forward moving lines, checking numbers, suggesting interventions, and explaining to her what was going on and why she needed to stay under an ice blanket. It was quiet and about twelve hours into our emergency room adventure when the daughter in me gently reminded the whole of factual possibilities. The unthinkable could happen here, it happens all the time. People go in for routine procedures and don't come back out. Like a bad Grey's Anatomy episode, "But she only had the hiccups." It was a surreal moment. What stands out the most is how I stood up, and I breathed. There were no dramatics. There were no pity parties or reaching out to somehow alter this experience making it more acceptable, easier. I was present, I was calm. I did pace though. Movement helps me think, it keeps me grounded. I paced five steps this way, four steps that way. I stood on a crag I had escorted so many others down. I stood sober and exposed as I realized that one day, my mother would also join the many who had passed on from this life to the next. That one day, her heart would cease to beat and her chest would cease to rise. Knowing you will one day loose your mother and watching what appears to be a generated preview offer two very different perspectives. I wondered what that moment would be like; I wondered if this was that moment. It was here the tears found their way into my experience.
With Grace & Gratitude...
No comments:
Post a Comment