The Hospital Saint
This is a name for my mom. Now, I know you can't be titled an official "saint" until after you die, but the g-force may be an exception. She did something last night that is not uncommon for her, she spent the night in the hospital (and not as a patient.) My grandmother had surgery last week in attempts to dissolve a blood clot in her leg. The surgery was a success, but the relief short-lived. She was rushed in yesterday due to her leg swelling and an infected incision. So, my mom's saint"ing" continues.
Some background info on me... I hate hospitals with a fervent passion. Not sure exactly when that started since they seemed cool when I was little. I always thought of them as romantic before I was actually ever in one. You know, the whole "on your deathbed" melodramatic thing. I do hate them now though. Granted, the most joyous moment of my life was the only time I have been admitted to a hospital- when my son was born! The labor and delivery floor is something easier to tolerate.
I always get a nervous tick when I am visiting someone, especially if they are very ill. That is when I feel most awkward in life. Not knowing what to say or do. I nearly fainted while visiting my grandfather after his back surgery, and he wasn't even all that ill. Maybe the time that did it to me was when we got the call that my dad was in the emergency room. Rushing there, and seeing him all wired up to heart monitors. Felt like my soul split apart. Thank God he was fine after that.
I know it is irrational to talk so much about hospitals and death relating since most people don't come to the hospital to die. Welcome to my warped reality. The smells... just remind me of death. When I worked at ARI I would sometimes visit my clients, some of whom would not make it back home. I sometimes was the only visitor they had in their final hospital stay. Death lingers there.
So, enters my mom. She has been with several, if not more, people when they died in the hospital. She stays with people when everyone else has gone home. Even if she hasn't eaten or slept well in days. She is there. Her very good childhood friend, a mother of eight, learned she had a brain tumor while in her forties. It is too true that you know who really cares deeply for you when you are at you lowest. My mom fed her, bathed her, dressed her and helped her kids all through her hospital and hospice time.
She prays with people in the hospital. She has seen people want to know Christ literally minutes before they go. She swears there is a faint sound in the back of a dying persons throat when their soul slips out. And with each death she has witnessed she said they have all let out a huge sigh or breath as they let go. How scary for people to have to experience death alone.
Maybe that is why I hate hospitals so much, they represent unloved people to me. The people that don't have someone strong like her. Someone to help burden the intense emotion of those moments and hold their hand so they feel safer.
That is why my mom is a saint. (a proper third-grade essay closing)
Some background info on me... I hate hospitals with a fervent passion. Not sure exactly when that started since they seemed cool when I was little. I always thought of them as romantic before I was actually ever in one. You know, the whole "on your deathbed" melodramatic thing. I do hate them now though. Granted, the most joyous moment of my life was the only time I have been admitted to a hospital- when my son was born! The labor and delivery floor is something easier to tolerate.
I always get a nervous tick when I am visiting someone, especially if they are very ill. That is when I feel most awkward in life. Not knowing what to say or do. I nearly fainted while visiting my grandfather after his back surgery, and he wasn't even all that ill. Maybe the time that did it to me was when we got the call that my dad was in the emergency room. Rushing there, and seeing him all wired up to heart monitors. Felt like my soul split apart. Thank God he was fine after that.
I know it is irrational to talk so much about hospitals and death relating since most people don't come to the hospital to die. Welcome to my warped reality. The smells... just remind me of death. When I worked at ARI I would sometimes visit my clients, some of whom would not make it back home. I sometimes was the only visitor they had in their final hospital stay. Death lingers there.
So, enters my mom. She has been with several, if not more, people when they died in the hospital. She stays with people when everyone else has gone home. Even if she hasn't eaten or slept well in days. She is there. Her very good childhood friend, a mother of eight, learned she had a brain tumor while in her forties. It is too true that you know who really cares deeply for you when you are at you lowest. My mom fed her, bathed her, dressed her and helped her kids all through her hospital and hospice time.
She prays with people in the hospital. She has seen people want to know Christ literally minutes before they go. She swears there is a faint sound in the back of a dying persons throat when their soul slips out. And with each death she has witnessed she said they have all let out a huge sigh or breath as they let go. How scary for people to have to experience death alone.
Maybe that is why I hate hospitals so much, they represent unloved people to me. The people that don't have someone strong like her. Someone to help burden the intense emotion of those moments and hold their hand so they feel safer.
That is why my mom is a saint. (a proper third-grade essay closing)
posted by Tracey at 5:42 PM
3 Comments:
When I was in the hospital for surgery in February, I had a ton of nurses. One of them - the ER nurse - was fantastic. All the rest were, well, not. It made my recovery much harder to not have sympathetic nurses around. I kept wishing they would take me out of my room and put me back in the ER so Betty could take care of me. (And of course her name was Betty.)
All that to say this: would that the world had more people like your mom.
I also know a wonderful nurse named Betty ;) I didn't mention hospital staff in this but you are absolutely right, they can help sway your mood, for sure.
Wow! What a fitting tribute to your mom and the beautiful soul I have seen in her. One of my greatest times, not only with your mom but in life, was when she helped us make the ribbons for our bouquets from my mom's wedding dress. Without even meeting me she agreed to help us out. It was such a wonderful, cherished moment for me....well said T money...
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