Rose Miller 
I now know how insidious the isolation tactics are from an abuser. It’s all done to keep you alone, stuck, and reliant on them. In my case isolation was easy, I don’t come from a big family so getting between me and my mom took some time but he managed to strain our relationship.
I remember the call I made to my mom when I decided I wanted a divorce. The fear that our relationship was past the point of repair, and the fear of rejection when I needed her most scared me more than the divorce itself and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
But she welcomed me with open arms and said she loved me no matter what because she carried with her an understanding that the strained relationship we had over the years was his doing not mine. She promised to support me through it and told me she’d be there for me and my kids. And she was, she was there through it all, committed to me and being strong for me when his retaliation got too much to bear until…
Until COVID hit.
I got the dreaded call from a neighbor that my mom was being transported to the ICU because she was dying. Really dying. Her oxygen levels were dropping to dangerous levels and decisions needed to be made quickly. It’s amazing how in one short moment the roles were reversed. It was my turn to be strong for her.
I made some of the hardest decisions in regards to my mom’s care. Decisions with such little information that I still don’t know if it was the right ones but watching my mom suffer was the worst pain I have ever felt, so naturally I wanted it to stop. We intubated her shortly after she arrived at the hospital knowing that it was a risk but not doing it was a sure death.
I watched my mom lying there sedated and unresponsive as the ventilator breathed for her. It’s the most heartwrenching feeling watching her through the glass helplessly lying there not knowing if she would live through the night. I drove an hour each day to the ICU to see her all while praying for a miracle.
On one of those many days, I walked into the ICU all suited up and as I closed the door behind me the machines started beeping uncontrollably, I panicked and ran for a nurse who explained that she hears me, she knows I’m there and her heart rate is elevated because she is emotional but she can’t move and she’s trying to communicate.
I spoke to her and a tear fell from her eye, the nurse told me she was a fighter even under sedation. Sounds just like her, strong until the very end. I played her some music she liked and held her hand. I tried so hard to be strong for her but I was glad she couldn’t see my tears.
A few days later I was rushed in to learn that her kidneys rejected dialysis and the toxins were in her heart and her time was nearing the end. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to fight, her lungs collapsed, her kidneys failed and now her heart would stop and it did. The memory of it was a lot more traumatic, but I will save that for another post.
My life stopped that day, this wasn’t in my plans. We had so much lost time to make up for and while the divorce rekindled our relationship I needed more time with her.
So while everyone is rushing to get back to normal, I don’t know what normal is anymore. Am I ever going to be the same? No. But I am grateful for those days in the ICU, for the chance to show her and myself that I was just as committed to her as she was to me.
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