It was one year ago today that I found out that my father was going into the hospital. It wouldn’t be much later that we found out he had a brain tumor, and within a month he was gone. Leading up to that day I chipped my tooth on a bagel and hit a garden wall with my car. All this during a Christmas season where I felt the pinch more than any other Christmas season. It was bad.
This year my son kneed my glasses and ended up breaking them. I am still waiting on the repair. It happened the day before my mother went into the hospital and it felt too familiar. Then the button on my newish pants broke off when I was putting them on. Again it was a pattern of minor misfortune.
Then there is the coffee cart. Let me explain. When my grandmother went into the hospital for the final time we visited her almost every day. We visited so much that I got the ten punches at the coffee cart and was able to get a free drink. When I saw a coffee cart at the hospital while visiting my mother I felt a sense of dread.
Good news is she isn’t much different than she was. There is no progress in the wrong direction. She has a major UTI and the hospital barely attempted to treat it. She is now back home and having other issues, but hasn’t hit a major downward slide.
Maybe all my efforts this year won’t be for nothing. Maybe she will hang around for a bit longer. I was disturbed. The repeating patterns seemed a sign of doom. A sign that death brings with him minor misfortune. It all felt too familiar.
Now she is back at home and healing up. The biggest danger now is she forgets her limitations and tries to get up and move around. Her mobility has taken a big dive. I don’t know if she is going to remember what today is or worse when January 18 rolls around she remembers what that day was. This wasn’t a pleasant time a year ago. It was bad.
I do believe we should hold onto hope whenever we can, but sometimes it is harder than others.
David Huzzard Writes 