My mother, the saint

Now, it's going to be difficult for me to write this and not sound too callous or indifferent. It's how I tend to get about personal things. My writing style has always been a little wry and humorous when talking about difficult issues having to do with my family. Also, sorry if this is really long, but there's a lot to say and I've been mostly quiet lately anyway.

As it is widely known, my mother was in the hospital recently getting some sort of spinal surgery. Specifically, she got three levels of vertebrae fused. It's not common, but it's also not unheard of. Her surgery ended up being "successful" in the eyes of the surgeon who performed it, but a strange byproduct occured. Prior to the surgery, my mother had trouble walking, indeed, lost any ability to walk at all. After surgery, she was bedridden for a week, unable to talk or properly swallow. She was intubated for purposes of eating and ingesting liquids. She was also coughing up lots and lots of mucous, primarily from years and years of smoking. Now, in that regard, my opinion is 'you reap what you sow.' She always knew smoking was bad for her and for that I didn't feel much pity.

The lack of ability to swallow, however, is not a typical reaction to this kind of surgery.

Anyway, after she was able to speak again, she was started on physical therapy. By the time Blue Cross/Blue Shield wanted her to leave the hospital (a decision with which none of us, her family - nor her, nor my ex, a doctor - agreed) she was able to walk with her walker about 200 feet, but she was still very weak and according to her, 1-pound weights felt like 15 pounds. She was barely able to operate the plunger which she needed to use to feed herself for two of the four feedings she needed a day. Her physical therapist, in my opinion acting under pressure from the insurance company, consented to her release despite the fact that she would not have 24-hour supervision (my sister has two kids and couldn't stay with her; my grandmother, who almost was able to do it, despite already taking care of her alzheimer's-stricken husband, had a sudden flare-up of emphysema, and I don't have a car, live anywhere near my mother, and am one of two people taking care of a new business).

A day after her release, she was found lying on the floor of her home by one of her nurses (she had nurse visits twice a day). She had fallen. It's still unclear to me for how long she had been on the ground.

She was readmitted to the hospital. Once again, according to her, she was in the emergency room for 9 hours and asking for a glass of water and also asking for someone to contact her physical therapist, whom would be familiar with her case.

The story from here gets a little more foggy, and also, the rest of it seems less credible, because from here on out, my mother starts exhibiting something of a psychological break.

The first time I visit her after the fall, she has a lot of trouble maintaining clarity. She seems to blank out in front of you. She'll be talking clearly, and suddenly stare blankly. She also stutters a lot. My ex, who is a general practitioner and very experienced, and also knows my mom somewhat, was there with me that night. She seemed to be able to converse with him pretty well until he started asking her questions about how many of her painkillers she had taken when she was released from the hospital the first time. Her episodes seemed to be a little more selective.

Also, my mother seems to have found the lord, again. Many years ago she became a "born again" christian, but after a second failed marriage with a so-called fellow christian, she lost her taste for the hypocrisy that so often seems to be part and parcel to christianity and organized religion and just sort of didn't talk about god for a long time.

I always knew he was in there somewhere, though.

And so did she, or so she says. So, although somewhat cliche that my mother should rediscover Christ in this time of peril, it's also expected within my own understanding of my mother.

My mother's rediscovered stance on Jesus hasn't had such a benevolent impact on my sister's relationship with my mother, however. It seems that the devil talks to my mother, now. More specifically, he has told her that her "daughter doesn't love her anymore." Naturally, this has shaken up my sister a bit.

Medically, physically, my mother seems to be in ripe condition to heal. Unfortunately, she's falling off the boat mentally and sort of... I don't want to say allowing, but it seems like she's almost choosing to not get better.

Two days ago, I called her up at the hospital to ask her where she last had her eyes examined. I was going to make her a new pair of bi-focal glasses so she could more easily read while in the hospital. She told me that she didn't want me to make the glasses, that she wouldn't need them because she was going to be dying in the next day or two.

"You're not going to die," I said. "Claude just told you yesterday you're going to be fine." Prior to him coming to see her, she had been non-stop asking to see him, because he was going to be able to solve all her problems. She was going to move in with him for a week and they were going to massage her feet together. That's the kind of effect my ex has on people. He's a wonderful giving person that people all love and many many people have the tendency to want him to take care of them. Hell, I did it for a while, I know what I'm talking about.

"God told me that I was going to die. And I have to tell you something else. It's wonderful news. They're going to announce it very soon. They're making me into a saint. You should read about saints in the bible or find a book and read about saints."

I told my mother that John (my current boyfriend) had just recently bought a book about saints, which is true. He wanted the book for the pictures, because he wants to do some paintings of saints.

"See? Why else would he have bought that book? Because I'm going to be made into a saint." I didn't even bother telling her his reason for buying the book.

"Well, mom, in the meantime, can I just make you the glasses so you can read and look at the book that John bought?"

"Cancel the glasses. Cancel the glasses. Cancel the glasses." She kept repeating it. I tried to explain that I hadn't yet ordered them, that I needed her prescription, but she wouldn't hear it.

I was at work during this phone call and had to leave, but as soon as I brought it up, she of course started not being able to talk, to relinquish me of the burden of talking to her. I called her bluff and told her I had to get back to work and had to hang up on her.

Yesterday, she was found again, this time on the floor of her hospital room. She also appeared to be singing in what the nurse described as "another language." My sister spoke with the nurse, who, bless her heart, believed my mom was having a religious experience (that's what happens when you deal with Catholic hospitals - Seperation of Church and Hospital Now!). My mother has in the past been in choirs. It's not at all uncommon for people to be trained to sing a song in another language and have them not know what the hell they're singing. In 1999 I bought a CD by a Portugese punk band called Raimundos, and learned how to sing most of the slower songs. I still don't know what I was singing.

Anyway, my sister went in to see my mom today and she seemed to at least be calmed down. Unfortunately, she has to be restrained because she keeps pulling her i.v. out. My mother will only whisper to my sister because she "doesn't want the devil to hear."

I'm going to go with my ex, Claude, to see her tonight. Maybe more to report tomorrow.