Joyanna Adams

Nobody's Opinion

The Caretaker’s Cry

Nobody’s Knows

I just got back from walking around the 7th floor of the local hospital on the neurology ward, where they put the old, the stroke victims, the brain damaged, the last remants of life awaiting death—the old waiting to die, heads covered in white bandages, holding on to the last breath. Lying…hopelessly, mouths gaping wide open, waiting for the horns of Gabriel.

Waiting for the lost son or daughter to come visit them, in their final hour.  

The last floor…the last elevator to heaven so to speak. Will this be me someday? Waiting for my long lost son to come say goodbye?

Well, I’ve been on this 7th floor too many time, and I am determined to NOT even go to the 7th floor. I’ll go straight to hell first.

That’s a promise.

I was here again…yesterday, and today. Again, in this God forsaken place of disenfectant sweat.

My husband waited much too long to go the ER, and he was the youngest to be parked on a corner room. Just turned 60 last month. For 2 weeks I begged him to go to the ER. But he wouldn’t.

What man does what his wife begs him to do?

Not many. Certainly not mine.

I listened to him shout in pain because he couldn’t move his arm, his fingers, they were numb, and then the hand shaking…and MRI an XRAYS showed nothing. The doctors took the wrong pictures…so, finally, he called a neurologist who told him to hurry and get to the ER.

“I should have listened to you.”  he said.

“You never have, I’m used to it.” I said. He knew I was still pissed off…and then the “beep, beep, beep,” of his blood pressure machine went on.

I slowly got up and turned it off. “Honey, I’d better go, I upset you too much.”

As I walked down the corridor, pass the nurses stations, I couldn’t help but remember…

In 2000, my mother suffered a massive hemorrhagic stroke, which left her paralyzed and bed ridden. Both my mother AND my father ended up on this floor.

I quit my job, as a musician, to take care of both of them.

I spent many an endless sleepless night listening to her scream in pain. Endless back and fourths to the hospitals. Endless visits for home therapy, nurses, running out for meds, supplies…years of caretaking. YEARS of my own life put on hold.

I had been here too many times before, on this hospital floor…my only friend being a doctor from India who knew my mother was NOT brain dead, as all the other numerologists had claimed.

Latest headline:

DECLARING PATIENTS BRAIN-DEAD OPENS THE LEGAL DOOR TO CONDUCT EXPERIMENTS ON HUMAN-LAB-RATS

They wanted my mothers’ beautiful heart. Three doctors came out of a meeting with the head of the hospital and one doctor smashed the wall coming out of the meeting.

Because I believed that only God could have that heart. But…that’s not how they look on things in the medical profession.

The old, should just die, and give to the young. Smart maybe, but not moral in the least.

And I was thought by one and all to be selfish for trying to keep her alive and comfortable until she died naturally.

My days were filled with hard work…turning her, changing diapers, changing the feeding tube, putting her in the car, taking her to the hospital time and again. They hated me there. They really thought I should let her die.

We kill babies, does that mean we have the right to kill the old by neglect?

Murder is murder, no matter what age.

But it was rough. Nurses get paid. They go home. I had no life for at least 5 years of my life. In fact, my whole life changed after taking care of my parents. I never went back to music, or work.

I became dependent on my husband.

Wait! I didn’t tell you about taking care of my dad?

Yeah, he had a massive stroke too.

(Another blog in my mind about Elon’s Musk’s Neurolink and brain surgery-next blog.)

Yep…I had been here on this floor, too many times before.

And I didn’t want to tell my husband that it wasn’t a good sign that they put him here.

I’m sure, once they get the MRI working, surgery will be needed.

I’ve also been THERE before. Sometimes things happen in surgery. Sometimes.

So, tonight, I’m alone in the house…worrying about the huge cost of the medical bills coming my way, and the possible loss of either a life, or MY life, taking care of another brain damaged family member.

I often wonder what I did in my pass life…there was so much I wanted to do with my life, and yet, here I will be again, taking care of another one.

Many of you will think this is a very selfish woman, “How can you talk that way! He’s your husband!”

I know. I know. It’s just me. What choice do I have? I’m too old to get a job.

But all I can think of, is I was looking forward for once in my life to a new future…one where I could finally concentrate be myself…

And then the self pity come: Everybody has a cross to bear, but why has mine been so heavy? I ask God that question many times…many.

And I keep thinking of this scene from the Godfather..

I look for a sign…what was my life really for? To be the caretaker?

Take it away Al…

May 1, 2024 Posted by | Uncategorized | 2 Comments