Who would have thought it would get to this…
Sunday finally arrived. I got excited and started preparing all the things I needed to bring my mum for her birthday and for her stay at the rehab centre. Knowing she only had one hand, I carefully prepared the little gifts for the occasion, and inserted them in socks so it was easy for her to pull them out.
Finding a little gift for my mum’s birthday was not easy, or maybe it was easy in the way that there was nothing open, so no headache around what to buy and where…We went to the local supermarket and I got her simple toiletry things. I also went into the animal section which was still open - Thank God, our dear furry friends still need to eat too! – and I decided to buy her a squeaky toy. I chose a cute little pig. My plan was that my mother could use it as a device to say yes and no. One squeeze would mean yes and two squeezes would mean no. I was so happy about that, it made me laugh out loud.
Back at home, I prepared a photo frame with a picture of our family, a teddy that my mum had on her bed, and other little things that would mean something to her and would help her feel more at home in her new rehab bedroom. I also made a chocolate mousse to celebrate her birthday.When we arrived at the rehab centre, we were taken to a separate room where a nurse was guarding the place. We had our masks on of course and we were asked to sit on one side of a very large table. They brought mum in on her wheelchair and placed her on the other side like you would at a prison parlour.
Actually it was worse because at least in jail, the guard is not behind you, like spying your every word and you do get some privacy. Here it was not the case.
At least we could take off our masks while we ate our chocolate mousse and so we could see each other’s faces and smiles for a bit. I was pleased to see that my mother could eat by herself with her left hand, even though she ended up with chocolate all over the face like a little kid.
My sister and her family were sharing this moment over the video on my mobile and so we all sang Happy birthday together. That made her emotional and she had tears running down her cheeks. She unpacked her presents and I showed her the clothes and the gifts I had brought her. Time went by so fast. We were only allowed 30 minutes but the staff was really sweet and allowed us an extra 10 minutes. Still it went too quickly and it felt like I didn’t really have a chance to connect with my own mother.
She had the blues at some point and started crying and I could feel how intense it was for her to suddenly see us again after nearly a month of being alone without her family and seeing us for such a little time… When I unpacked her CD player and asked her to use the squeaky pig to let me know which CD she wanted me to place inside, we all realised that she wasn’t getting what I asked. That broke my heart.
It was not the first time that I noticed that she did not quite understand and suddenly it was time to go , say goodbye. She was also feeling restless and uncomfortable in her wheelchair whose back seemed way too straight…
She left the room and that was it. I felt like crying right there… This was not at all the same experience I had when she was at the hospital and I could still visit her and spend at least 2 hours with her, connecting, eye to eye, giving her massages and telling her stories.
This time she seemed far away and did not even look at me once. It felt really hurtful, like if I had lost my mum and this woman sitting in that chair was a different person.
She reminded me of the old folks I used to look after when I worked in a care home in Bristol years ago. I cannot describe the confusion, sadness and loss I felt other than that I was experiencing grief.
Even though physically my mum was still alive, I felt that I had already lost her. In a way it was true. The mother that I had known up to now will never be the same. Two thoughts crossed my mind and brought me even more sorrow.
One is the memory of the last day I saw her in her normal body. She was returning home in Provence with my father, leaving me behind in her childhood house in the Alps. We hugged and that hug was different than at other times.
We really hugged – something that we had never really done before. We both shed some tears, which also did not make sense. Was it that at the back of our mind, a part of us knew that these kinds of moments would never happen again?
The second memory that came back to mind was that of psychic reading I had about a year ago, I can’t remember when exactly and the lady said that my parents would stop coming to the Alps in the Summer. At that time I thought that did not make any sense because I could not picture my mother ever stop wanting to go there. She loved it so much.
At this point I can’t help but feel that there is a chance that my mother will never really come back home. Even though I am praying for a miracle and hoping that she might walk again, speak again and use her right arm again, I can’t help feeling that I am saying goodbye to my mother.
This grief inside is coupled with the grief that many of us might be feeling, the grief over the loss of the old world, over the loss of our life the way we were used to…
I will have to once again put on my cheerful positive coach hat on when I speak with her on the phone tomorrow and the next days. And it will be a challenge, especially now as I am not even sure anymore that she understands when I speak to her…
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