Being 6 hours away from my mother is something of a pain in the ass sometimes. That distance keeps us from seeing each other regularly and hanging out. It keeps me from helping her with stupid little things around the house. Mowing the lawn, fixing light bulbs-that kind of shit. When she goes in the hospital (which she did last week), it's the other distance between us that keeps both of us from helping each other.
I was on vacation with Dinah's family last week (thus no posts) and I got a call Thursday from my brother telling me she was in the hospital. She had been having "spells" where she gets overheated and feels faint. She went to a doctor, had a spell in front of him and was ambulanced to the hospital.
I called my brother back to get the phone number from the hospital and to listen to him bitch about how the doctors didn't know what was going on, then I gave her a call. She had me on the phone for 5 minutes telling me about how she couldn't sleep and the woman next to her breathed loudly and the carts running up and down the hall all day and night were annoying. And it's too hot there. Hopefully she'd get out of there the next day. She talked about the spells quickly and then moved on. I hang up knowing she probably didn't want to talk about it anymore. She's in the hospital and she hates being in the hospital. It was okay.
I called her the next day for an update and it was pretty much the same conversation. Doctors don't know what's wrong. Think it might be this. Running tests. But now she has a fan and that helps her keep cool and drowns out the noises. Hope your vacation is going well. Again I tell myself she doesn't want to worry me. She's doing what she has to do for herself to get through. Yes, I could've used some comforting, but I'm a 30 year old guy and she's sick and worried and God knows what, so I should just deal. And really, I didn't want to think critical thoughts of my mother if she's dying. Which I was somewhat convinced she was. (So, now that she's out, I guess I feel okay being a little more critical. That's just gotta be great for my karma.)
The last time I called was Sunday. Still didn't know when she was getting out. Quicker phone call this time. It was maybe 2 minutes. The doctors think it's an infection. White blood cells going up, but they don't know where the infection is and they can't really do much about it now. I talk a little about what's going on with me, work and shit, but it's more a report than an interaction.
So. I didn't call Monday. Or Tuesday. I just didn't want to have the same or shorter conversation. I should've called and it bothered me that I didn't. But, it also bothered me that no one called me.
And that's when I kind of remembered, yeah. This is how we always interact. And that's how we always will interact. Until she does actually die.
So. On Wednesday, I called her hospital room. "Carol's room!" A chipper voice said to me. My mother is not named Carol. So, I called her house a bit later felling like a huge jerk for not having called. And we had pretty much the same conversation.
What can you do?