The Final Goodbye

Niles Nursing home called me towards the end of the work day on a Friday to notify me that my mom had been taken by an ambulance to Lutheran General Hospital – that she had gone septic again. The thought of racing to the hospital to sit there for hours after the long week had me spinning. I called the hospital relentlessly only to be put on hold and not receive any answers. I decided I needed to be calm, stay home and wait for the call. They had to call… right? They had to. By 7pm, still no news. Kaylee came over to keep me company and just talk in the kitchen while I drank beer after beer and tried to remain sane. By midnight, I called again and was told “The ER is packed, the nurse will call you with an update.” I waited another 2 hours, and called again at 2am, again with no answers, but she was in ER and was being treated. I had plans to go to my Grandma MacDuffs house the next day to visit with Billy and Grandma, and Dad was in town as well, so I was really looking forward to being with family and getting the support I so desperately needed at that time. I woke up at 10am, still no word from hospital, and slowly got ready, got coffee, and slowly started driving to the hospital down Milwaukee Ave. Just then the call came, I quickly pulled over into the forest preserve to answer. The nurse started listing off a myriad of complications my mother was having as I maniacally searched for a pen and paper in my car to write everything down. I told the nurse I was on my way and would talk to her in person as the info was too much to digest in a parking lot. Of course I parked in the wrong parking lot at the hospital and it took me what seemed like FOREVER to get to the ICU. Once on the ICU floor which seemed to be 10 stories up in the clouds, my shoes hardened into concrete. It was a somber and gray overcast afternoon. I felt like a ghost cascading down sterile the halls, passing room and after room. With the room numbers seemingly unchanging, my mom felt further and further away as if I just simply could not reach her. Each room I passed seemed to hold entirely different scenes as if straight out of a horror film – one room a woman clenching her entire body upwards and screaming but releasing no audible sound, another room with a muslim family wearing hijabs huddled in a circular formation around the bed praying in silence. It seemed as if the world had gone on mute. As I finally neared the corner I saw her. Surrounded by gray clouds looming in from the giant picture window, her eyes and mouth frozen agape, I blurred my eyes to the sight. The doctor and I nearly crashed into each other and she took me down the hall to talk. Her eyes said it all.