Dream
2019-03-19
Last night I dreamed that I was holding Mom’s hand and leading her through an escape room obstacle course. The grim reaper followed behind us. At one point we were outside on a mountainside covered by thick bushes. Someone had cut a path into the hedge. I said, “Hey Mom, I see a way through,” but looked up and saw that she was up above the path pushing her own way through the brambles. When we came near the end, I figured out a complicated puzzle to escape through the last door. I had the bad feeling that it had been luck instead of skill but was relieved to be done. Then I looked around and saw that Mom wasn’t behind me. A nurse came in the door I had just opened and shut it. I was angry, but she explained that someone else might come by while I waited and would want to figure out the puzzle themselves. Though disappointed, I spent the time waiting redoing the puzzle to be confident I knew the solution. Mom never came. I woke up too soon.
My dreams are easy to interpret.
I shared my dream with one of my sisters this morning on the way to the hospital. At the end I broke down crying and explained that the worst part of the dream is the end when I’m trying to figure everything out alone. Everyone’s prayers are huge for us right now and your words of encouragement are greatly appreciated. Everyone is so kind. Many people have offered to be here for me, but the only person I want right now is my Momma. This is an incredibly lonely walk.
Mom has done so much to make end of life decisions easier for me. I know when and how she wants to be buried and what kind of coffin she wants. She has paid for everything herself. I know what kinds of tests she would want done and what kinds of life extensions she was against. Still the hospital calls me for consent and the choices are mine to make. The responsibility is a weighty cloak wrapped around my shoulders.
I walked up to the hospital doors and told my sister I needed to go and put on my game face. There will be so much time to cry when the crisis is over. Now I want to enjoy sitting in her presence. Now I need to have my wits about me when the doctor and nursed come in.
I’m exhausted, weary, worried, conflicted, held high in prayer.
When they come in Mom’s room and ask me, “How are you?”
I smile and say, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
2019-03-19
Last night I dreamed that I was holding Mom’s hand and leading her through an escape room obstacle course. The grim reaper followed behind us. At one point we were outside on a mountainside covered by thick bushes. Someone had cut a path into the hedge. I said, “Hey Mom, I see a way through,” but looked up and saw that she was up above the path pushing her own way through the brambles. When we came near the end, I figured out a complicated puzzle to escape through the last door. I had the bad feeling that it had been luck instead of skill but was relieved to be done. Then I looked around and saw that Mom wasn’t behind me. A nurse came in the door I had just opened and shut it. I was angry, but she explained that someone else might come by while I waited and would want to figure out the puzzle themselves. Though disappointed, I spent the time waiting redoing the puzzle to be confident I knew the solution. Mom never came. I woke up too soon.
My dreams are easy to interpret.
I shared my dream with one of my sisters this morning on the way to the hospital. At the end I broke down crying and explained that the worst part of the dream is the end when I’m trying to figure everything out alone. Everyone’s prayers are huge for us right now and your words of encouragement are greatly appreciated. Everyone is so kind. Many people have offered to be here for me, but the only person I want right now is my Momma. This is an incredibly lonely walk.
Mom has done so much to make end of life decisions easier for me. I know when and how she wants to be buried and what kind of coffin she wants. She has paid for everything herself. I know what kinds of tests she would want done and what kinds of life extensions she was against. Still the hospital calls me for consent and the choices are mine to make. The responsibility is a weighty cloak wrapped around my shoulders.
I walked up to the hospital doors and told my sister I needed to go and put on my game face. There will be so much time to cry when the crisis is over. Now I want to enjoy sitting in her presence. Now I need to have my wits about me when the doctor and nursed come in.
I’m exhausted, weary, worried, conflicted, held high in prayer.
When they come in Mom’s room and ask me, “How are you?”
I smile and say, “I’m fine. Thank you.”