Nightmares

“Pain makes man think. Thought makes man wise. Wisdom makes life endurable.” Teahouse of the August Moon

I am a theater person. It was my major in college much to my parents dismay. One of the first plays I was in was Teahouse of the August Moon and the quote above has always been with me. For people who think the arts are frivolous it is the arts that shape you and make you think. Pain hurts but it does make you think. Last night I had a nightmare that has shaken me so bad that even though I know I must I’m almost afraid to try and go to sleep. Thinking and writing about it may help me endure.

As many of you know I was the caregiver for my Mom these last six years. I gave up a job I loved and packed up my possessions and put them in storage because my Mom asked me to help her. My Mom never asked for help. She was always Mrs. “I can do it all without help thank you very much.” My Dad’s sudden death changed that and she realized how much she had depended on him and now needed some help herself. I was her “go to” person. Finally when things were changing for the worse on my job she took the plunge and asked me to move in with her because she needed help.

Mom had always been fairly healthy but with her family history she was a candidate for heart problems and when it hit it hit her without warning. She had a heart attack that almost killed her. I was in the throws of an abusive marriage at the time and my husband had made sure that there wasn’t enough money for me to fly home and help my Dad get through the difficult time of not knowing whether Mom was going to live or not. Mom pulled through and I fled my hell. Dad was supposed to hang in there until I could get back to the Midwest. I was to take over from him on tracing the family tree. He died of a sudden heart attack a month before I could get back. Five years later his wife asked me to come live with her. There were things only a daughter could do.

I have never regretted my decision to come here in spite of the pain that it caused. It was hard to see Mom deteriorate before my eyes knowing I could do nothing to stop her heart failing. It was a hard six years. They never quite prepare you for the heartache that comes from care giving. You become a caregiver when things have gone wrong and can’t be fixed. It is a mater of time and you don’t know how much time you will have. I had six years. Six years that ended with a call from my brother saying “Sis you have to come home right away. Mom is gone.”

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to be there for her to the end. She wasn’t supposed to have gone to bed and had a sudden heart attack leaving only her cat to be with her till the end. Her cat Pixie is now my cat Pixie. The little black rascal who brazenly walked in and realized she had a house full of suckers to take her in and make her their Little Princess. She didn’t care that Merlin the Magician didn’t want any competition. She was the smart one of the litter.

Although I have walked away from the Catholicism of my youth I have still retained the Celtic belief that after we die we will be rewarded. I still believe there is a Heaven. Although my Heaven is probably closer to the Simpson’s episode with Liam Neeson and is a place with drinking and boxing and step dancing and all the glorious fun that comes with my Celtic heritage. As I promised her when I said goodbye and that I would take care of Pixie I also felt that she would be in a place where she never had to suffer. She would be with my Dad and like the Dad I dream about she would be young and healthy. She wouldn’t be the thin bent woman she had become. She wouldn’t have bandages on her head from surgery to remove cancerous growths.

In last night’s dream Mom appeared and she had made it clear she was dead. I don’t remember what she was talking about but she collapsed on the floor. She was even thinner then she was at death. She was even less the 94 pounds she had become and she had the large bandage on her head from the surgery a few months ago and she was in pain

I refuse to believe that I went through all this pain and that she is still suffering. Damn it she has to be free from the pain and be happy. She was a good woman and I can’t believe she is still suffering. It isn’t right

I have to go to work tomorrow and for that I need to sleep. After all I now have two cats to support. I can only hope and yes pray that tonight’s sleep will be different. Pixie has been very subdued for a couple of days and I’m afraid she is plagued with nightmares too. She rushed in last night when I woke up crying to comfort me and to get comfort herself. Mom was a good woman and she deserves to be rewarded. I don’t know what triggered last night’s nightmare but I suspect that the battle to get the insurance company to repay the money they stole from Mom has a part in it. Right now though Pixie is crying and I need to go to her. We both loved Mom so much. She was as much a caregiver as I was and that is a lot to ask of a three year old cat.