Epiphanies

Yesterday was a hard day.  It was also an incredible learning experience. It is amazing how much perspective can change the way we think about things. People don’t realize this.  From one person’s perspective they may see my son as a spoiled, bratty child. Surely, anyone who has passed by us in the grocery store as he sobs and pushes the cart, because he can’t get a toy, has allowed their mind to wander there.  Yet those who can see things a little differently realize that every struggle is a learning experience, a lesson in self control.  They see that he really is a sick little boy with a mom who is reaching out to try to teach him, instead of punish him.

Yesterday morning my father had a heart attack. Well either in the night or during the day, no one knows for sure.  After half an hour of arguing with him, I won and took him to the Urgent Care.  When we arrived, they checked him out and sent him to the ER without hesitation.  I had the boys with me and I can proudly say that in my haste, the boys handled themselves quite well.  They even sat like big boys while I went back and gathered my dad’s personal belongings.  It showed me just how much Tre has grown as a person. I was able to count on him to watch over his little brother and not create trouble. 

Well, a friend of mine was able to get the boys from me and then I headed over to the hospital.  It took me a little while to find my dad, but I did. They had him out in a hall way, hooked up to the monitors. There was a Sheriff guarding a room next to ours.  There were people crying, babies screaming, men cussing, it was a rather overwhelming experience.  I should probably confess I hate hospitals. Just driving up I felt my breathing change.  Yet, because I would never want to be alone in one, and I know how bad my dad’s anxiety is about hospitals, I stayed at his side.

Growing up, my dad was not a happy go lucky kinda guy.  He had a temper that he has learned to better control over time, but it certainly is still there. I would be lying if I said it was easy to deal with him. I have seen sides of him that have been hard to forget and forgive.  Yesterday I saw glances of that person that shamed a little girl.  I felt the little girl inside of me cowering, embarrassed and ashamed.  When the doctor came in and said that he would have probably had a better result from his bypass in 2000, had he ate better, exercised more, and not smoked, he wasn’t hearing any of it.  First he was rude to the doctor.  I was aghast. Then the doctor tried explaining himself again, dad told him to shove it, more or less. Then he rolled over, turned off his hearing aid and said “I’m not listening to this crap!” It was so ridiculous, I almost laughed (not in a haha funny kind of way).  I put my hands over my face, and slid down in my chair.  There was no rock to crawl under. That little girl inside of me was horrified and terrified. Somehow I felt responsible for his actions.  Then he looked at me and snapped “I TOLD YOU I DID NOT WANT TO COME HERE!”  So I got up and walked out.

I stood outside the room, in tears.  In disbelief really.  Through the day I heard him say things like “Just let me die,” “These people are idiots,” all the while I smoothed things over. I explained his behavior to the nurses, told them he had anxiety.  Tried to make sure he was comfortable.  But when he yelled at me, my compassion about ran out.

I had encouraged them to address his anxiety promptly when I arrived and they had.  As I stood there in tears, I put two and two together. His anxiety med was wearing off.  After the doctor coming out and comforting me, I went to one of the nurses. I told her that she should do us all a favor and give him more anxiety meds because otherwise things would get more uncomfortable for all of us.  She smiled and said “I’m never too old for advice!” Once again the anti-anxiety meds did the trick.

It was about then I started seeing a parallel.  Things started making sense and I saw my dad in a new light.

I went outside and called my husband, since there was no cell service in the ER.  I stayed out about ten minutes. When I went in they said he’d been asking for me.  When I went in he was angry because they had woken him up to take his blood and then just threw his food on his lap (his words, not mine).  So I helped him get settled and eat.  Of course, it wasn’t good enough.

As I sat there watching him, I saw my son. I saw the way Tre acts when he is scared.  Such as the day of the state test. He was terrified and instead of just saying “I’m so scared”, he lashed out in anger.  So I just held in my mind that just like the little girl in me who was trying to hide in his room earlier, when the doctor was there, there was a little boy inside of him that was terrified.  That was the person I had to talk to, the person I had to address.  We all have an inner child.  That person who wants to run first when things are scary.  It was like seeing Tre sitting there, where he didn’t want to be.

The next time he started to get snappy and tell me he didn’t want to be there, I stood up, went to the end of his bed and told him that he had to stop getting mad at me for bringing him, that I did the right thing.  I asked him if he expected me to just let him sit at home and die.  I said I could not have lived with myself knowing that I had not done anything.  And you know what? He didn’t say it anymore.  He grumbled about them taking too long to move him again, and granted it was a long day!

Once they got him upstairs in ICU, there was a huge reduction in sound, and stimuli.  It was a much calmer place.  Once they got him set up, I went in to say good night and to make sure he was okay.  When I went in, he was much more relaxed.  He actually thought about me and said “You should go home to the boys, give them a kiss for me.” It was the first time all day he had thought about me.  I knew he was in a better place mentally.  He was able to let go of his anxiety and fears and be a man again.  The little boy finally felt safe.

Thinking back over the years things started to make sense, as I drove home. The dad that lashed out at people as I grew up was really that scared little boy.  He was desperate to be heard, so he talked louder. When he didn’t get his way, he would get mad.  Then there were other times he handled things so well.

I also saw the amazing similarities between Tre and my father.  They are very much alike in the way they handle things.  In the same way that I cringed when I knew something was going to upset my dad, I do when we walk by something at the store and Tre’s eyes light up.  That “oh boy, here we go!” feeling. 

So what do I do with these epiphanies? I don’t know just yet. Today, I’m going to try to balance dying Easter eggs with the kids, and going to visit him in the hospital. I want him to know he isn’t alone there.  Also, just like I have had to learn that when Tre acts out, I can’t worry or care what people think of me, I have to do the same with my dad. Much in the same way, I may need to explain to people what is going on-  like nurses, or doctors. But it’s not my fault. I’m not responsible for the issues; all I can do is try to understand.  If nothing else, my new perspective will at least help me.