Monday, August 11, 2008 was a scary day for me. My mother was preparing for open-heart bypass surgery to replace an mitral valve in her heart. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning and headed to the hospital. Much to my surprise, I beat my mom and Rick. I waited for a few minutes and finally called to make sure she hadn't overslept or changed her mind. She was concerned that she had forgotten to pack her waterproof mascara & wanted to go by the store first. (That's my mom!) For some rare & unknown reason, I had some in my purse and told her just to head to the hospital. Goodness . . .
She arrived, kissed me hello, took my mascara, and I could tell she was a bit nervous. Granted, we were in the hospital where she works, in the unit where she works, with the nurses with whom she works but it was still a scary thing we were facing. I spent many hours before that day crying and praying to God that He would not take my mother. My grandmother, Mary, still needed her daughter. My mom's husband, Rick, still needed her. Her grandchildren needed her. Her other family members and friends needed her. Of course my brothers needed her. But mainly I needed her.
I still remember the look on her face when the pre-op nurse began to administer her meds and instructed Mom to hug and kiss us before she was out of it. I still remember my eyes completely filling with tears that took forever to flow down my pretend-smiling face. And I still remember kissing my mom for what I prayed would not be the last time.
Since everyone (including the OR nurse) knew my mom, they were wonderful about calling my cell phone every time they did something - starting the surgery, opening her, starting bypass, taking her off bypass, finishing up, heading to recovery. Rick tried to sleep in a chair in the waiting room while I busied myself with crosswords, running to the cafeteria for breakfast, and worrying. The calls were comforting but also a bit nerve-wracking. Being the daughter of a nurse and being fascinated by medicine sometimes lends to knowing more than one would prefer.
Thankfully, Mom's surgery went better and faster than expected. The surgeon called me personally to tell me they were able to repair the valve instead of replacing it. And that's when I lost it. When I first said, "She's okay," I broke down. A sweet, young hospital volunteer came up to me later and said that was one of the most touching things she'd seen in a long time. Guess she unfortunately saw too many sad tears vs. tears of relief.
Mom's recovery was long - much longer than she hoped and anticipated. She was in the ICU longer than she wanted and had a few bumps along the way, but she eventually was released from the hospital and recovered fully. You can barely see the scar that runs from below her neck down her sternum. Mom enjoys having me feel the knotted wire under her skin. She gets an evil smile on her face when I now politely decline. :)
Mom has very few, if any, memories of the first week or two after her surgery and it really bothers her. I have filled in some gaps and tried to tell her stories from those difficult days. Yet, as I look back on them, I look back on them with love. I was able to spend some time with my mother (unbeknownst to her!), caring for her and making sure she was as comfortable as possible. I also had lots of time to spend with Rick and my Mary.
Best of all is that I still have my mother. Having seen many of my friends (and recently including my own mom) lose their beloved mothers, I can't imagine not having her here. A lot has happened in the past year - most of it not too good in our family - so I think I'll love her as much as I can while I can.
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