Sickness

Part way through the second grade, my mother became very ill, and one day while we were sitting at home, I remember our front door very abruptly opening to a group of men rushing into our home, lifting her onto a stretcher to take her away to the hospital, while my father dragged a very confused little me away from the scene. My parents were already living apart at the time, so while I wasn't uncomfortable being taken to my dad's house, I was uncomfortable with how things had just suddenly happened, and how no one seemed to want to explain to me what was happening. I cried for a long time.

In following days, weeks, and months, it became commonplace for us to visit my mom in the hospital. I was never entirely clear on what she was sick with, partially because it seemed like every time we went to see her, she had a new problem. That would be a recurring theme for many years to come. I also remember on one visit asking my dad if mom was pregnant, because in her stays at the hospital, she had ended up gaining a lot of weight. I was not the brightest child.

Eventually, we sold the house in which my mother had been taken from, and rented an apartment for her, due to the uncertainty of how much time she would spend in it, thanks to all of the hospital visits. During that time I was able to connect in my brain that my mother was sick a lot better than I had in the past. I hadn't really wanted to accept that fact, but it was hard not to when I was able to spend more time with her, and see how much slower she moved, and how much less she did, and how much more she slept.

But not even the apartment would last. My grandmother decided that she could take care of mom better than the hospital could, which was a decision that I have never understood. But she took my mom away to live with her in Idaho, which really split my life up even further, and in time would drive me to choosing a side of my family in my head.

That's the position I've been in for most of my life. My mother living in a different state, being taken care of by my grandmother instead of a hospital, and having a heavy preference for my dad. My parents divorced during this time, which was an event that was so uneventful I hardly even noticed it happened. Her condition has only continued to degrade over the years, and my grandmother regularly attempts to guilt me into visiting them more because the doctors will say something new about my mom's condition. Eventually, I became numb to that as well.

Recently, my mom has been hospitalized once again, with her condition dropping heavily. Honestly, this happens once or twice a year, and they always tell me that she could die during her time in the hospital, and the frequency and regularity of it has made me numb to even that. At this point, I don't know how I would feel if she did pass away. There's a part of me that thinks that, like my grandfather before her, that might be for the better, given all of the pain that she is constantly in. I feel bad for saying that, but honestly, she's barely had any drive to stay alive for a very long time. The only drive she has had has been me, but she's so connected to the me that I was when she was taken away to the hospital that first day, that she hasn't been able to recognize that I have grown up and changed over the past fifteen or so years. It's painful and frustrating to be continuously treated as though I am only five years old. And I think the further that she drops, the less she will be connected to reality of what is happening. And as frustrated as I get with her sometimes, that's not really what I want for her.