On failing at making your dependant better

This is the third in a series about being a caregiver for better or worse as a man in his late 20s. It’s to raise money for my mother who isn’t doing too hot after a lengthy stint in the hospital that probably shouldn’t have ended quite yet. Check out that link here: http://gofundme.com/HurtByUSHealthcare

A year ago a went from living part time in Atlanta and part time with my parents to living full time with my parents. My social life took a hit because how do friends work? But that is for a later post. This post is one of those sad ones that hurts to type out.

I have failed. And, I have to be ok with failing. Part of my failure is that losing my job caused the household income to drop by more than half. But instead of using my extra time to help out more, I fell into a depression I’m still struggling with.

I can’t help but think that I could have done something to keep my mother out of the hospital this last time.

Here’s a hospital street cat before I get anymore depressing:

  • I don’t get her up enough
  • I don’t make her do her breathing exercises enough
  • I don’t check the tubing for her oxygen machines often enough
  • I don’t clean the filters enough
  • I don’t clean anything enough

I failed her, but I have to let it go and know that it isn’t my fault what happened to her. Her CO2 built up slowly over time to the point where it was in the 170s. Flaws in machine settings, missing a servicing because of a new insurance provider, these are all things that added up to what happened.

My step father had to go sleep for work. So, I sat there looking at her as she was intubated. She was restrained because of how terrible the experience was.

It was scary and I couldn’t help but think it was my fault. The thing is, I was constantly monitoring her and giving her breathing treatments. She got a pneumonia and went down hill quick. I can do better, but the thoughts I had while she was struggling to write to communicate with me after they woke her up–directives for how she wanted to die–they were thoughts that we’re out of place.

I’m actually not a physical therapist. I can’t lift my mom’s weight if she falls or needs a deadlift out of bed. Im also not a respiratory nurse. There comes a point where you realize that you can’t do it by yourself.

Then, the doctors send her home and I am terrified that I will end up with her back in that place convinced she’s dying with a tube down her airway.

I didn’t make her better. I’m not sure who could have. But, everyday she’s too weak to move or hurts too much to get out of bed because she missed her doctors appointments while she was in the hospital. I’ll hit back on my personal failings next time, but being a caregiver isn’t the same as being a nurse and it’s hard to know I can’t do the healing my mother needs.

This is the third in a series about being a caregiver for better or worse as a man in his late 20s. It’s to raise money for my mother who isn’t doing too hot after a lengthy stint in the hospital that probably shouldn’t have ended quite yet. Check out that link here: http://gofundme.com/HurtByUSHealthcare

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