Scarred

I knew this day was coming when my mother’s decided to get spinal surgery. February 20, was the date her surgery was set. It was a normal day in school when I received the message of a lifetime. My oldest sibling telling me our mother’s surgery went wrong. Imagining what could possibly go wrong made my eyes water. Felt like I was the only person on my bus. Everything was silence and my mind was racing. There was never a positive thought in my head. Taking the last step off the bus and the first step onto the porch, everything was real.

Nervous to step on the other side of the door, family members were gathered. They were gathered as if someone was giving out free money. I looked at them kind of funny as it was so many or them. Fist balling, eyebrow arching, and nose turning show that I didn’t like it. My mom’s back had sixteen staples holding the extremely long cut together. Seeing those staples made my skin crawl and I really felt disgusted. The cut went from her neck to the middle of her back. It was at least sixteen inches long.

It was a very dark moment in mom’s life and it was pretty shady for me. Being that I was a mother’s boy, not being able to turn her neck without being in pain killed me inside. Listening to her wish she should’ve chosen another method or doctor. Listening to her wish she didn’t have the surgery. Every single thing she said killed me inside because deep down I was the one who convinced her to get it. I felt a lot of pressure being I was the one that had to miss school to take care of her. I was the only one there through all her struggling. I looked at it like a job. I help from mornings to maybe 6ish, then my sister or dad took over.

As days pass by, I learned exactly how to help my vulnerable and weak mother. Helping her use the restroom was harder than ever. No one knows how it felt to lift my 260lb mother up, placing a container underneath so she can handle her business. This was more than once a day. Washing her was another major thing I had to do. I was exhausted from all the helping and sad at my mother’s pain. I love my mother dearly and I hated to see her eyes get wet. Hearing and watching her cry for hours at night made my stomach weak, heartache, and tears run.

The hardest part for me to see was her learning to walk all over again. Struggling to stand up straight to show if there was any progress. Tuesdays and Thursdays the therapy nurse came over to help. But I helped her every single day. First few weeks we started in the living room. After I noticed progression, we used the stairs. Sometimes I used to cry because I didn’t like to see my mom that way.

They gave her a walker to use. I was so depressed. I was missing school and my life. Trapped in a home doing everything possible to make my mother happy. I can admit to being drained. My mother drugged herself to stop the pain she was feeling. One time I heard her save her life was over. Felt like I fell off a cliff, landing on a stack of needles. I also heard her said she doesn’t have anyone. That made me felt worst because I was there since day one. I didn’t felt recognized or appreciated. But although her comments were hurtful, nothing could’ve stopped me from helping the most important person in my life.

With all the good deeds I’ve done helping her, I know I will be blessed. Not many kids do what I did for their mother. I love the time I was finally recognized and appreciated when someone asked about her and she mentions me. I went from being the saddest child ever, to the most appreciated. I was no longer crying. My family pain was over.