Time's up

Today is the first day I have cried at work. I have been there a little less than two months, and I knew eventually this day would come for one reason or another. My work involves me getting to know and care for old, sick people... and then eventually they die, so I thought for sure the first time I cried at work would be because of one of my patients dying. Surprisingly, I have been handling that rather well.

As part of the clinical management team, I have to attend meetings with the patients and the families within the first 72 hours being in the facility to introduce ourselves and give an update of what has been happening on our end of care. Today's meeting was with a very quiet woman who does not enjoy staying in our facility and away from her family, and because of that, she is unhappy with us. Her daughter, who is a doctor, is a little skeptical of all of us, and it reads all over her face and her body language. She was very stern and had her arms and legs crossed, and her expression on her face never changed throughout the meeting. At one point, she looked over at her mother, who had an eyelash on her face, and she reached out to brush it away. It took several swipes before she finally got it, and then she ran her hand down the side of her mom's face, and her mom leaned into her as she did it. I am telling you right now that it was one of the most touching, most precious things I have seen in a long time, something as simple and as loving as brushing something from her face. My heart melted for how much she loved her mom, and how much she loved her back. I have not seen something like this in a long time, and I think it is sad that more people do not have a mother-daughter relationship like these women and like my mom and I did.

Immediately I felt the urge to cry, and it shocked me how fast my heart began to hurt for myself and for my mom to be away from each other. I excused myself from my seat and walked as quickly as I could, with my head down, to the bathroom. I barely shut the door and I nearly collapsed with how utterly sad I felt inside and how much I missed my mom.

I miss her so much my insides hurt. Nowhere in particular, just inside.

I thought of all the times I have done that for my mom. Pick an eyelash off of her face, brush a hair off of her shoulder, rub my thumb under her eye when her mascara is smudged. I watched this woman silently and dutifully care for her mother in the most subtle, gentle way and I felt a rush of jealousy that I could no longer do that for mine.

Then the pictures started happening again. The images of my mom dying, of my mom crying and saying "No" and shaking her head, knowing she was dying and not wanting to. I brushed her tears from her face with my fingertips and patted her head and her shoulders, trying to love her as much as I could because I knew it was limited. For the last hours of her life I knew everything was limited.

When you know they're dying, your brain automatically takes you to those places, those memories locked inside that fill you with warmth. Trips to Disney World, road trips to Amish Country, riding in the car and listening to the oldies, walking the isle at graduation and seeing her crying like I was. They flash through your brain in a matter of seconds, and then you start to imagine the things in the future that will not have her in them. My wedding, my Master's graduation, my first house, my first job, my first baby. She will not be there. All in a matter of seconds, it hits you like a truck.

When you look up and see that flatline on the monitor and a once-rising chest lay still, it's as though someone just hits you square in the stomach and screams, "Time's up! That's all you get!"

That's all I got...all we got. And now it is over.

I do not know why I am 24 and our time was up so quickly and why this woman, grown, with children of her own who are also grown, gets so much more time with her mother. Regardless of the reason, that twinge of jealousy and that question never cease to come up. And after this never-ending question, I have to remind myself, really force myself, to be happy for her instead of how I actually feel. This is very hard. I struggle with this part, but once I start to feel happy for them that they still have each other, that struggle dies down and I am able to move on with my day.

This situation that occurred today lasted no more than 10 minutes, and when I say that I was able to move on with my day, I mean it. I gathered myself back together, waited until my red eyes were back to normal, and walked back to the meeting. And continued on with my busy day like normal.

I think this resiliency is a sign of something bigger on the horizon. I know that I am far from "normal," and probably will never be again, but I can at least process things and let myself be sad for myself, as long as it stops when the time is appropriate. And when the situation is appropriate. Today, it was appropriate. I really missed her. And I was so sad for myself to not have what this woman had. And I let myself grieve for her.

I liked today.