A Mother’s Will to Survive
It was just days before the 80th birthday of my beloved mom, Elaine. I am proud to say that of those eighty years, forty-three were spent in my company, her youngest child, Patricia. I am the child for whom Elaine was both mother and father. You see, the cold, cruel city streets brought our Chicago policeman husband and dad to his eternal rest at the age of 37. Never one to allow the world to defeat her, Elaine rose above the tragedy to become the sole support for me and my older brother and sister. In my eyes, my mom was the glue of my world. She held my broken life together. She gave me unconditional love and was my buddy. My mom gave me more than any child could ever expect from a world in which the words ‘single parent family’ can often conjure up images of confusion and pain. Elaine was a woman of great courage and strength. And she felt no fear. She literally fought city hall. And won. She was a powerful warrior and a realist. Nothing could bring her down. Until that fateful night, September 11th, 2004..
When the phone rang in the early morning hour, I pretended not to hear. Only when my husband forced me to face the flashing red light of my caller ID did it began to become real to me. Something was very wrong. I realized that today was going to take on a real significance and that my personal 9/11 was upon me. I was soon face to face with my mother. Just lying there helpless. Strapped down, white gown covered with dried blood and barely alive. I did not recognize this woman. It could not possibly be the woman that took me through hell and back, the same woman that could take on government officials, the law and even overcome something much worse; the extreme apathy and neglect of those that claimed to “always be there for her and her children.” No, this was not the same woman. That is what I kept repeating to myself, for nothing else could make sense inside my head.
The anger that I felt toward the hospital, my family, the world in general, all boiled up inside me. I had to face the fact that she most likely would never leave the walls of Advocate Lutheran General. It is kind or ironic because this very hospital was where my mom and I enjoyed attending Advocate’s Laurel and Hardy film festivals that were held a few times a year in the hospital auditorium. Now, just several floors above, Elaine was facing another battle. The type of battle that, unlike the past, the outcome was out of her hands.
My mother suffered a heart attack and stroke. Her only hope could be found within the confines of Advocate and their staff. At first, for obvious reasons, I resented them. Because after all, they were now the enemy, the hospital was now in charge of this precious life of my mom. Once I began the process of letting go, I would watch and see the doctors and nurses of this hospital at work. I was determined to see why they were voted one of the best hospitals in the nation. They had one tough critic to please. Me.
As the weeks progressed, I would watch as the nurses held my mom’s hand when she was shaking and disoriented. I observed the tenderness and toughness of the doctors as they calmly and compassionately took control to save her. I was softened to the harshness of the situation when I walked in to see my mom starting to come to life again. One of the biggest things that helped her was this wonderful room on her floor that was filled with the aroma of good food and the sights and sounds of entertainment. Life breathed new again as my mom would see others struggling like her to become whole and healthy. She looked forward to the special events Advocate would plan for the patients. One particular favorite was the day the staff would hold their pet therapy. To see her face light up when the small and furry puppies would climb into her lap was worth any price. They even held a special “date night” where they turned the cafeteria into a dance hall, and put out pretty flowers, played some Kenny G, and served a special meal for patients and their guests. And something else started to happen at this hospital. Because of their kindness and understanding, the nursing staff allowed my sister Phyllis to even face her own destiny. If my mom survived, Phyllis would have to become her permanent caregiver, otherwise the fate of a nursing home was my mom’s only option. It was becoming clear that Phyllis’ natural gifts of caring and patience would become my mom’s healing salvation. Phyllis was the one who was with my mom every day in that hospital, for hours at a time. And Phyllis is the one who possessed a sacrificial heart and enough love to give her life away, so that my mom could live. The staff at Advocate helped nurture Phyllis’ inner power and strength, which she would later need to face the days to come.
The greatest thank you goes to the Lord for hearing our prayers and bringing my mom home again. The gratitude that I now feel toward Advocate Lutheran General and their staff is something that I now have the opportunity to put into words. I trusted them with my mother. I trusted them to turn a crisis into a victory. After that fateful day of September 11, 2004, I did not think I would see my mom again. Now one year later, my mom once again proved to be that tough, red headed Irish lady with a history of never giving up. And to the staff of Advocate Lutheran General, I give you my heartfelt and emotional thank you.
