Before I Die

Chapter Seven

Clothes by colour, shoes in a line, underwear never worn and papers ready to go.

"I'm having a heart attack I need to go to the hospital."

Pulse not racing, shoulder pain not present, do we take her to hospital or delay for another night?

We'd call an ambulance if they would turn up, as they too are fed up with theses fights.

"Your heart monitor is not buzzing, it's not a heart attack mum."

"I'm not bloody stupid I know when I'm having a heart attack. Take me to the hospital, I'm going to die."

Yes you are, we all are one day. One day in the future, but not today.

Rationality stops, arguments are lost and my exhaustion concedes, I let her win.

"Dad will take you, I'll grab your things."

Life is at a standstill, life hasn't moved. Life repeats itself over and over again.

I know the hospital well. I know its' every nook and cranny. I know every nurse, I know every Doctor and yet, I really know nothing.

"You have to stop bringing your mother here. We have other patients to attend to," the Resident on call tells me.

"What are we suppose to do? She says she's having a heart attack?"

"She's not as you know. She has Dementia and needs higher level care."

We'd suspected this for some time but it's hard to diagnose especially if you're not next of kin or power of attorney.

"No, we don't know that. She's never been tested. How do we get her diagnosed?"

"I'll discharge her soon. You can take her home," she rubs my arm in sympathy.

We don't need sympathy, we need help and I have no idea how to get it.

"What do I need to do to get her tested? I'm running out of ideas. Our family needs support. What can you do to help?"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She offers no assistance, she offers no advice. This is a fact of life and there's nothing they can do.

Hospital are crippling, nursing homes overrun, dementia patients a daily existence, of ageing and stalling lives.

Crying. Crying is all I can do, and it explodes from me like a bursted water pipe, one that's been blocked for months and subsides from the pressure, subsides from the fight.

"Please help me? Please help my mum? Please help my family? All we need is some help?"

Begging is not beneath me. Begging is my choice and if begging is what I need to do, I'll beg and beg and beg.

"You need a referral to a Geriatrician. They'll be able to help."

"We have the referral, she refuses to go. You can't discharge her. Can't you do the tests?"

Is not about the money, or about my inheritance. It's about her current quality of life.

I'm told life is precious. I'm told life is worth the fight. I'm told we have one chance at it and to have a quality filled life.

What's a quality life? I'm yet to find out. My life since a child has always been this same fight.

My family always erupting, me running every night, I'm getting tired of my family and getting tired of this endless fights.

"I'm taking her home. If you discharge her she can't get home. She doesn't drive so you'll have to arrange her transportation home."

"We can't discharge her unless she has transportation home," she winks and signs. "Will admit her for a referral. Call her Geriatrician I'll be here all night."

Finally I have my goal in sight. Finally I feel my move was worth this fight.

What would it look like if I have an opportunity for a life?

What will my family do without having my abilities to fight?

I've fought for my family for years, I've fought for what I always thought was right and a break, my end goals is now suddenly in my sight. I have the potential for new opportunities, I have the potential to have my new life!

What would I do? Where would I go? The endless possibilities, my endless quality of life.

I'll learn to live. I'll learn to love and, I'll learn to take each day, with optimism and hope, as my new life, my new story, will no longer need this fight.

(To my beautiful readers - At the beginning of this book I said it wouldn't be a happy ending, or something you'd look forward to, something that ends with hope.

Life has challenges as well as opportunities. We get to choose our own paths and sometimes endings are not what they seem. Endings are not death. Endings are new beginning and endings are worth the struggle.

I said I'd learn lessons. I said I'd learn how to love. This is yet to come so please keep reading, please vote as I'm so grateful for your support.)