|"I know when I've been insulted!"|
Evidently, somewhere along the line, my responsibilities changed and I didn't get the memo. He chose to stay in Hays and rely on friends/nursing students for assistance and medical care. He didn't need a hovering mother. I was crushed - sort of. Wasn't it just yesterday that he WANTED my undivided attention? My how time flies when you're having a mental breakdown. However... the irony was that inside, in places you don't talk about at parties* or in Son's hospital room, was my total aversion to anything involving blood, pus, puking or compassion. I am soooooo not a nurse!!! That point can not be emphasized enough. I don't have the stomach or the temperament for it. So part of me wanted to be absolved of nursing him. But that mom-guilt reflex that is installed at their birth kept me from admitting that. "You want to go home and leave your recently hospitalized son to fend for himself? You fail as a mother!!"
The result of this conflict in my head was sadly predictable - tears. And let me tell you, there is nothing like a bawling mother to put a grown son in a good mood. Especially one who is experiencing pain and discomfort and isn't exactly doing his Bobby McFerrin** impersonation to start with.
It all worked out fine in the end. He stayed in Hays were he didn't have to deal with my hovering and I went home and didn't feel required to hover. He reports that he is doing well, improving consistently and, as it turns out, didn't need his mama to accomplish that. Go figure!
*Name that movie
** Sang "Don't Worry, Be Happy"