The What Ifs

June 27th, 2018

10:42 PM

I’ve been at the hospital for what is now my second night. White walls decorated with flower portraits are all that I’ve seen aside from the light brown, grey furniture in my mother’s room. 5105… A room number and patient name. I’ve only said it once, but for me once was enough.

Throughout the past five months I’ve been inside more hospitals and doctors’ offices than I ever thought I would in my entire life time. It’s come to the point I tune out what the doctors are saying to her instead of paying attention to fully understand what’s going on. I can’t bare it anymore. There’s only so much I can take, but yet I’m here pretending I’m fine, cracking a joke or two to make her smile and hear her laugh without having to think about the constant pain she’s in. My throat’s constructing as I hold back the tears that threaten to fall. I know she’ll be okay. Mom’s the strongest person I know, but I’m still scared.

My biggest fear is not becoming the woman she invisions me to be in my future. I’m afraid to let her down and not amount to anything. I’m afraid I won’t be able to function if she’s not with me. I’m afraid I’ll finally become so broken nothing nor anyone would be able to bring me back. I’m afraid of so much, even if I know she’ll be okay. I’m still afraid.

Nurse Lillian walks into the room to get mom a new IV. She asks her how she’s feeling and mom tells her she’s in pain. I knew. I knew she had pain but she didn’t complain. Never mentioned it unless I saw her wince and I would ask her. It was a 9 out of 10. Slowly making its way to 10 out of 10. I don’t understand why she holds onto the pain. I don’t know if its because I’m here and she doesn’t want me to worry or cry, but she hides it. I wish I could comfort her. Tell her everything will be okay, but I can’t. I can’t tell her something I’m afraid may not be true. I can’t comfort her the way she needs me to. So I do the only thing I know how to do. I pretend everything’s okay. It’s become such a part of my life now that I fool myself into thinking it’s true.

I know the risks, I know what could happen. I know there’s a possibility… I know there’s a possibility things won’t end well. In the end I can’t help think of all the ‘what ifs’. What if…