Authors: Anie Michaels
I’d inquired about my mother at the registration desk of the hospital. The woman behind the desk gave me instructions on how to find her, and I’d listened, but I was surprised I’d retained any of the information. I’d managed to find the ICU and the nurse there had led me to my mother’s room once verifying our relationship.
I opened the door to her room and was both shocked and relieved by what I saw. My mother was sleeping—the same thing she’d been doing for weeks now. Sleeping. But this time she was sleeping in a hospital, her wrists restrained, cuffed to the side of the bed.
“That’s for her own protection,” the nurse had explained when she’d seen my eyes go wide. “She’s been unconscious since she was brought in so we haven’t been able to evaluate her mental state. We don’t want her to wake up and do anything to harm herself.”
I nodded because it made sense, but I wanted to cry from the logic.
My mother had swallowed enough sleeping pills to kill herself.
Enough sleeping pills to slow her heart rate to the point of near death, to cause the hospital to pump her stomach, to fill her veins full of drugs to counteract what her system had already absorbed.
The nurse explained everything she could, but then left us, telling me she’d let the doctor know I was there. “It’s a waiting game now, honey,” she’d said with a softness to her voice that felt a lot like pity.
When the doctor had showed up, he’d not really told me anything new or worthwhile.
Mom would pull through, but the effects of the drugs she ingested weren’t the real worry. The real and immediate danger was the fact that she’d taken them to begin with. She was breathing on her own, they’d been able to get her heart rate up, she’d been intubated, but after receiving medication from the hospital, she’d quickly started breathing over the machine, so they took her off it. Now, they were just waiting for her to wake up on her own.
I sat in the uncomfortable chair just to the side of her bed, and I watched her sleep. I hoped she wasn’t dreaming, hoped that she was, for just a moment, blissfully unaware of all the pain she’d obviously been living with. I hoped she was just resting. Existing. Perhaps healing. Because she’d done none of that so far.
And I was partly to blame for that.
How many times had I left her? To what? To finish a degree? To continue to live my life like nothing had happened while she obviously lost her mind? I thought back to every time I pushed my mother’s problems aside, every time I passed her off to someone else, every time I told myself she’d be fine.
It was all my fault.
Eventually I fell asleep in that uncomfortable chair, and when I woke up, it was to my mother’s frail voice calling my name.
“Hayes,” she whispered, obviously afraid, sounding terrified. “Hayes.”
I sat up and moved the chair to her bed, as close as I could get, and rested my hand over hers still strapped to the bed.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, my voice wavering, throat tightening, and eyes welling. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Where am I?” Her eyes were flitting around the room with panic.
“You’re in the ICU at the hospital. Mrs. Harris found you unconscious last night, so she called an ambulance.” I watched as my mother tried to mentally piece together what I was saying. I reached forward and pressed the button on the side of her bed and in just a few seconds a voice rang out.
“Nurse’s station, can I help you?”
“Yes, my mom has woken up. Can someone please let her doctor know?”
“Of course.”
I grasped my mother’s hand and felt her try to grasp mine in return, but her grip was weak. “Someone will be here soon to explain everything, Mom. But I promise, everything is going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”
She nodded silently, obviously still petrified, and I couldn’t help but feel like our roles were more reversed in that moment than ever before. I was her caretaker, and I had to make sure I did everything in her best interest. She needed to get better and I needed to help her. She obviously wasn’t going to be able to do it alone, and I felt like a horrible son for ever imagining she could.
Mom was quiet for the few minutes it took for a nurse to come check on her. The door opened and a new face appeared, smiling brightly.
“You’re awake,” she said as she approached my mother, looking at the monitor she was hooked up to. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m tired. And I feel like I can hardly hold my head up. My throat hurts a little. Other than that, I’m all right.” She looked at me for just a moment, but then glanced back to the nurse, who was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm. “Why am I bound to the bed?”
“You’ve had a rough night,” the nurse answered as she studied the monitor, the cuff inflating with air. “The doctor will be in soon and he’ll explain everything.”
My mother was either satisfied with her answer, or didn’t have the energy to ask more forcibly. Her head fell to the side, seeming to relax into the bed, accepting whatever was happening and that she was not in control of it.
“Everything looks good here, Mrs. Wallace. The doctor should be here very soon to talk to you.”
“Thank you,” I said as the nurse moved toward the door. She gave me a sad smile and then left us alone again.
“I’m so tired, Hayes,” Mom said, her eyes closing.
“I know, Mom. I know.”
It was ten minutes later when the door opened again. A man walked in who looked exactly how I would picture a doctor. Tall, glasses, white lab coat, stethoscope around his neck, pens in his front pocket. With him was a woman who looked professional, but didn’t have the automatic designation of a medical professional. She smiled warmly at my mother while the man walked straight for the machines she was hooked up to.
“Mrs. Wallace, we’re glad to see you awake and alert. My name is Dr. Stevens, I’m the attending on the floor today. This is Dr. Andrews,” he said, motioning to the woman standing next to him. “She’s the resident psychiatrist.” They both nodded at my mother, obviously not able to shake her hand, but they did reach out to me.
“I’m Hayes, her son.”
“It’s good that you have some support here,” Dr. Stephens said. “Let’s talk a little bit about why you’re here, shall we?” My mother nodded and he continued, using the mouse and keyboard to bring up my mother’s information on the screen. “You were brought in last night by ambulance, unresponsive, with low vitals. Someone at the scene said they’d found you with an open pill bottle and called for help. Upon arrival you were intubated, your stomach was pumped, and we administered intravenous drugs to counteract the pills you’d ingested. The pill bottle was provided by whomever was with you at the time.”
“Luce,” my mother whimpered, tears forming in her eyes. One slid down her cheek and I reached up wiping it away for her.
“How are you feeling now, Mrs. Wallace?” This was from Dr. Andrews.
“Please, call me Chelsea.” She took in a deep breath and then let it out. “Honestly, I’m really embarrassed. And tired. And sad.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and the next sentence was taken over by sobs. “I’m really, really sad.”
Dr. Andrews reached her hand out and ran it slowly along my mother’s shin, saying, “In order for us to figure out what’s best for you, both physically and mentally, we’re going to have to have a tough conversation, Chelsea. But I want to assure you, whatever you’re feeling, however you got here, it’s okay. You’re going to have to be really honest, though. Both with Dr. Stevens, and with myself. Do you think you can do that?” Mom nodded. “That’s great.” Her eyes darted to me. “As a rule, I require this first conversation to be handled privately.”
“I’m not going anywhere. That’s how we got in this mess.”
“Hayes,” my mother’s weak voice rasped. “This isn’t your fault. Not even a little bit. And honestly, the last thing I want is for you to hear all this.” Another tear slipped down her face, but before I could wipe it away she used her shoulder to awkwardly dry the stray tear. “I’ll be okay.”
I studied her, tried to make sure she meant what she said, that she wasn’t just telling me what she thought I wanted to hear.
“I’m just going to go to the cafeteria to get some coffee. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She nodded as I stood, and I watched her try to be outwardly strong, as if she was just holding on until I left the room, waiting to have some sort of breakdown as soon as I was out of earshot. I leaned down, pressing a kiss against her forehead. When I stood back up she turned her face away, and I took that as my cue to leave.
I walked down the hall, having no idea where exactly I was headed, and passed a waiting room. Mrs. Harris was sitting on one end of an uncomfortable-looking couch, and McKenzie was lying down, her head resting on her mother’s lap. Both of them looked to be asleep.
“Shit,” I whispered, angry with myself for not even thinking about the fact that of course they’d be waiting all night for an update. I turned toward them and Mrs. Harris must not have been completely asleep because her eyes popped open at the sound of my footsteps and she immediately shook McKenzie’s shoulder until she lifted her head.
When McKenzie’s eyes met mine she jumped up from the couch and ran right into my arms. I didn’t waste any time wrapping around her and burying my face in her hair. She smelled like home. Everything about her made me feel whole, especially the way she fit perfectly inside my arms.
She pulled away and linked both of her hands with mine, looking up at me expectantly.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t come out here and update you guys. It was kind of a strange and overwhelming night.”
“How is she?” Mrs. Harris asked, coming to stand behind Kenzie.
“She’s in with the doctor and the psychiatrist. She woke up just a little while ago and seems upset, but okay.” I let out a large sigh. “They strapped her wrists to the bed.”
“Oh, Hayes,” Mrs. Harris said, her words dripping with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook her words off, stepped back, pulling my hands from McKenzie’s and running them through my hair.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I was just going to get some coffee.”
“I’ll come with you,” Kenzie said, stepping closer to me again.
“No.” I shook my head, looking down at the floor. “No, you and your mom should go home. My mom is fine medically. But I don’t think she’s up for visitors, and she’s talking to the shrink right now. You guys should go home and get some sleep.” I steeled myself for her touch when her hands gripped my t-shirt, effectively pulling me into her.
“Hayes,” she said softly, “I don’t want to go home. I want to be here, with you, to help.”
Without touching her I raised my eyes to meet her gaze. “There’s nothing for anyone to do. It’s probably going to be a long day. You guys should go home.”
Mrs. Harris stepped up behind McKenzie and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s give them some time, sweetie.”
McKenzie looked hurt and confused, and it took everything in me not to reach out, pull her close, and tell her all the manic thoughts running through my mind. I wanted to explain to her why I was pushing her away, but I knew it would just make her cling to me tighter. This was better. For everyone.
“Tell your mom I love her, and that I’ll be waiting to hear from her when she’s ready.”
I nodded at Mrs. Harris, and watched as she steered McKenzie out the door. They left and I let out a sigh. It was going to be a long day.
Forty-five minutes later when I peeked my head into my mother’s room, I saw her lying on her side, hands tucked up underneath her head. Relief coursed through me knowing they’d let her out of her bindings.
“Hey,” I whispered as I stepped into the room. Her eyes opened and she gave me a sad and weak smile.
“Hey, honey.”
“How’d it go?”
“They decided I wasn’t a threat to myself or anyone else. I’m being moved out of ICU soon. But I have to stay one more night for observation.”
I walked around her bed and sat in the chair just next to her. I leaned forward, exhausted, and rested my elbows on my knees, bringing my chin to rest on my clasped hands.
“Mom?” I finally said.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
She held my gaze for a few moments before she eventually looked away. I didn’t know what was going to come next, if she was going to tell me or push it away. It felt as though we were in limbo, unable to go anywhere from there, unable to move forward unless something changed.
“Before I explain everything, I want you to know that I never wanted to die.” Her words were strong and clear. In fact, they were the strongest words I’d heard her speak since we lost Cory and Dad. The strength in her voice surprised me, made me sit up straight, made every sleepy part of me wake up and listen. “It’s been difficult, Hayes. I hope you never feel the kind of loss I’ve been wading through. Every day I feel guilty for checking out on you, but I couldn’t find a way past the grief.” She took in a deep breath, and then continued. “I was feeling a little better, trying to move through my days without getting lost in the sadness, but then Cory’s acceptance letter came and it was another setback. Another part of his life he’ll never get to live because of the actions of one person. It’s not fair.” Her voice, although still strong and loud, cracked at that point, and I fought the urge to go to her, to hold her close and tell her I didn’t need to hear anything else, if only to spare her the pain of explaining it to me.
“With the wave of grief came more nightmares, and Hayes, I promise you, I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep without images of Cory bleeding on the floor of a convenience store, or picturing the fear in his eyes before he was shot, or imaging what he’d look like on his wedding day, what his children would look like. I wanted one night where I could sleep in peace.”