07:17 – It’s never good when the phone rings before 6:00 a.m. Barbara’s mom called this morning to say that she couldn’t breathe or stand up and that she’d called 911. Barbara called her sister, who lives much closer to their parents, and Frances said she’d head over to their parents’ house immediately to meet 911. Barbara jumped in the shower, got dressed, packed a bag, and headed for the hospital. She’ll have to stay with her dad tonight if her mom is admitted to the hospital, because they won’t let him stay alone at night.
This is how it’s been for months now for Barbara and her sister. A medical emergency followed by a couple days of normality, if they’re lucky, followed by another medical emergency. The level of stress on their parents is unimaginable, but it’s no picnic for Barbara and Frances, either. This simply can’t go on.
11:48 – Barbara called a while ago to say that the hospital hadn’t admitted her mother. Frances was taking their parents to their home while Barbara made a drugstore run to get prescriptions filled. Apparently, her mother has a UTI. The doctor also prescribed Xanax for anxiety. Barbara’s mom is terrified that Barbara’s dad is going to die. Her mom can’t sleep because she’s afraid that Dutch will die with her asleep.
Actually, that’s not an unreasonable fear. Dutch is, after all, 90 years old and has some serious health problems. Barbara’s mom is terrified that her husband will die before she does. Considering that she’s several years younger than Dutch and in better health, that’s of course more likely to happen than the converse. Barbara’s mom just can’t accept the fact that, awake or asleep, there’s not a thing she can do about it. If she were a doctor, there would still be nothing she could do about it. And so Barbara’s mom is putting herself under even more stress and suffering panic attacks.
Unfortunately, if it happens as Barbara’s mom fears it will, the survivor’s guilt will be devastating. I watched it happen, years ago. Back in the mid-70’s, I moved in with my girlfriend, who was renting the upstairs of a house owned by a young widow. She was a nurse, and had been married to a doctor who suffered from a congenital heart problem. One evening, they fell asleep in the den, he in his recliner, and she sitting on the floor leaning against his legs. When she woke up, he was dead. He was in his early 30’s and she was in her late 20’s. To make matters even worse, she was a cardiac-care nurse. She was left with an infant girl and a devastating guilt that she’d slept through her husband’s death. This despite the fact that her husband’s doctor and all her other doctor friends told her the same thing. There wasn’t a damned thing she could have done if she’d been awake. There wasn’t a damned thing she could have done if she’d been a cardiac surgeon in a fully-equipped operating room. It wasn’t her fault. She understood that on an intellectual level, but emotionally she felt responsible for his death. Almost 40 years later, I suspect she still does.