Post Traumatic Stress

Been anxious for days about my Mom’s hospital stay. It became glaringly apparent why when I went to go see her.

No one actually told me where she was going to be and I went to the hospital where my Dad was before he died. I got to the hospital and they couldn’t find her on the list. It finally occurred to me that she was a different hospital; the one the cardiac surgeon prefers.

When I got back to my car I just lost it. I found myself in an emotional storm that just took me totally by surprise. I was sitting in my car shaking and crying, reacting all out of proportion to simply going to the wrong place. I felt like I was outside of myself watching and wondering who this crazy woman was. In a little bit I calmed and went on to the other hospital, but I still felt shaken. I really didn’t want to go to the hospital. And I desperately wished I hadn’t gone to this one.

When I talked to Youngest Sister in the evening she said something that outlined it exactly. She’s lost 3 cats this year; one of them she had to have euthanized today. She said that she felt like her cat carrier has become the death box. And that’s just it. Hospitals aren’t the place you go to get better any more. It’s the place where you go and they torture you until you die. Logically I know that they’re only trying to help her, but a lot of times it seems that the interventions they do later in life do more harm than good.

That was true today as well. Mom’s blood count was low so they decided to give her a couple of units of blood. Between that and the saline they overloaded her with fluid to the point where she was having difficulty breathing and they had to give her a diuretic.

Middle Sister said a few days ago that she just didin’t know how much more she could take and I so feel the same way right now. I knew that I was stressed and anxious, but I didn’t know how much until it steamrollered over me. I just don’t want to go to hospitals any more.

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