Today is 8 weeks since Brendan Bjorn was admitted to hospital for his spinal fusion the following day. 2 months. 2 very long months. I don’t want to go back to the hospital. I sit here in our current rental house surrounded by a clutter of boxes and miscellaneous items all awaiting a move to our forever home which hasn’t yet happened. I don’t want to be here, either.

I’m tired. To my very core, I am tired. 

I want to go home to a house we’ve yet to move into.

I want to be able to bring Brendan Bjorn home, to a home he’s yet to even see, rather than him go into care after being discharged from hospital…whenever that will happen.

I want to beg the solicitors to please, please hurry up and just let us move in this week, or next if need be, but to not delay any further.

I want to be under the same roof with both of my sons. Safe, healthy, warm and getting ready for Christmas. Together.

We need to be home.

You might not understand as I spell out my anxiety-ridden desperation in words on this page. And that’s ok. I write for myself as much as for others to possibly gain understanding and compassion for families on a journey such as ours. I’ve learned that even other families in similar situations don’t fully understand what it’s like to be a single parent with literally no family to lend support, encouragement and love. It’s not a situation that many can understand, but it does happen. There are people in this world who have no close or extended family members to be there for them. I just happen to be one of those people. And that’s ok – it’s just the way it is.

Back to the hospital.
Back to the bench next to Brendan’s bed.
Back to the fight to get him well enough to be discharged.
But to where? Will it be to our forever home? I can only hope to God it is.

We need to be home. 

 

I spent the last 3 nights in the Stroke Unit at a hospital in Dublin. Now there is something I never thought I would be saying. I am home now, finally showered after having worn the same clothes around the clock for 4 days, and comfortably resting in clean, cosy pyjamas. Declan is here with me while Brendan sadly remains in hospital still struggling to have his PEG feeds increased.

In short, I am ok.

After having a CT scan of the brain with contrast & angio, MRI scan of the brain with contrast, chest x-ray, ophthalmology exam, loads of blood work and even more lights shined in my eyes than are on the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center in New York City at Christmastime…I am ok.

I did not have a stroke. 

I have to pause and re-read that line over and over. I did not have a stroke. We still aren’t 100% certain what happened, but have an informed guess (possibly an adverse reaction to one of Brendan’s medications, scopolamine, getting in my eye). What is certain is that there is no neurological issue, damage, concerns. All is clear! I am going to take the next few days at home with Declan to rest and recharge my very depleted batteries. And, I will reflect with gratitude and thankfulness – two words that simply don’t come close to capturing what I am feeling at this moment.

As I lay on a trolley in the A&E after the ambulance brought me from the hospital where Brendan is to the hospital with the stroke unit, I was truly terrified thinking that I may not see my boys ever again. I lay staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down the side of my face into my ears, and wondered if at any moment I would slip into a place I would never return from. I lay there alone, waiting, praying that I could be granted another chance at this journey called life so to be there for my boys as I’m all they have.

Here I am, granted another chance.

I’ve always thought life is full of lessons, and I learned more of them these past few days. I learned more about love and commitment from the elderly lady in the bed next to mine as I watched her and her husband interact after 60 years of marriage. I learned more about family bonds from the lovely elderly lady in the bed directly across from mine as I watched various family members come in and out daily bringing care items and indeed, bringing love and laughter. And I was reminded that not everyone has someone as I watched others, like me, have no family to visit them as they lay alone filled with unheard emotions and, most likely, fears.

I also learned that I need to take better care of myself. To eat better, exercise more, and grant myself time to relax. I will have to work on the last part of that lesson and tell myself it is not selfish to take time to relax. (Having said that, it must be noted that for a single parent, full time carer, this is not an easy task – and sometimes it’s impossible. This is a prime example of why carers need more supports!)

Amongst all the testing, it was discovered that my cholesterol is very high, which of course puts me at risk for stroke or heart attack. This has been a wake up call, no doubt about it. 

So, it’s time for a few days to relax. A few days to prioritize some things (like myself). A few days to reflect and begin to set out on what will be a newly gifted journey.

Today marks 4 weeks since Brendan Bjorn was admitted to hospital for a spinal fusion. Due to complications with infection after surgery and now with his intestinal system, we are still here. Time has passed terribly slowly, to be sure. It seems like ages ago since the three of us were under the same roof. And when I say roof, I don’t mean the roof of a hospital. I mean that of a home.

I ache to return to our quiet little family life.

This past week, Declan has been here in Dublin with me, staying at the wonderful Ronald McDonald House. It has given the boys the opportunity to spend their days together before Declan heads back to his Godmother’s house tomorrow with the return of school.

He doesn’t want to go.
I don’t want him to go. 
And I’m sure Brendan will wonder where Declan has gone.

Did I already say that I ache to return to our quiet little family life?

I’ve told Declan that with the passing of time – and maybe with the generosity of hindsight – we will soon be able to look back on this challenging period with a sense of relief, newly found assurance in strength gained, and an ever increasing understanding of just how much we cherish the time together we are blessed to share. And while I know he doesn’t fully grasp the depth of what I’m saying, I know he will…with the passing of time.

These last 4 weeks I’ve been pulled into the past and thrown into the future, trying to sort out what comes next, while attempting to cling to the present where decisions and care must take precedence. Housing still weighs very heavily on my mind and as of this writing is still not secured. While there is no discharge date in sight for Brendan, the pressure to have that suitable forever home ready for discharge day is no less urgent. It must be sorted, and sorted urgently.

I know, I really should take my words to Declan and let them soak into my own soul: With the passing of time, it will be alright. I just need to have faith and hope and believe that it will be. This is probably where I’m going wrong tonight, as I sit here staring at my laptop screen nearly too tired to piece together a proper sentence.

Maybe I’ll fall asleep tonight thinking of Christmas. The three of us together in our forever home, safe and healthy, Brendan looking at all the Christmas lights with wonder in his eyes as he does every year, us loving each other as we do, and looking forward to a new year with a new start for us all.

Surely, with the passing of time…hopefully not too much more time…it will come to be.