This week that good old saying of Robert Burns comes to mind! I had imagined myself sat today eating my pancakes and reminising about skipping day in Scarborough. And am I? NO! Instead I’m in blinking hospital AGAIN!
Seven years ago today, I was in the same hospital on the same ward but with pneumonia and it was that week on the Friday, (Friday the 13th February actually), that my beautiful son died. He will have been gone from my life now for 7 years. Gone but never forgotten.
It just seems like yesterday, I can remember talking about him to another patient. He had been on my mind for a while, I was trying to organise his life. The soft approach hadn’t worked with him so I had decided to take a harder approach. But like anything else I try its got to backfire on me. Michael had been addicted to drugs and alcohol and no matter how much I tried with him I just wasnt getting anywhere. It was so frustrating. He had just come out of prison and I had been talking to his probation officer in Scarborough only a few days previously. I was cross with them because they wern’t dealing with his mental health issues. I can remember saying to her, “if anything happens to my son it will be your fault”. I wanted him sending to hospital so he could be monitored properly as I felt it was his mental health problems that caused his drug and alcohol abuse issues. He was 33 but so vunerable. Every time over the past few years when I had tried to get the mental health team to see him, Michael would do a runner. Then I wouldn’t see him for a few weeks/months until he turned up dishevelled and dirty. I would send him up to the bathroom and sort some clothes out for him and then we would be back on that same merry-go-round. I had to break this vicous circle somehow.
I already had my hands full with my youngest son who had an aquired brain injury after falling through a factory roof and I was trying to get him into Daniel Yorthath House for rehabilitation. That was a great fight on its own trying to get funding etc. I was planning to bring Michael through to live with me while my youngest son was safely away in rehab. But what was that I said earlier about mice and men and things not going to plan!
My youngest son had already gone through a couple of operations to repair his fractured scull with a titanium plate. And then, I ended up in hospital myself with pnumonia, I didn’t have a diagnosis of COPD at that time, but I know I had it now, my breathing was definitely not what it should have been.
I’m afraid because of all this Michael took a bit of a back seat while I was sorting my youngest boy out. Unfortunately, I ran out of time and didn’t get the chance to help him as I wanted to. I tried to park him up for a while and sent him through to where his dad, brother and grandma lived. I just wanted them to see to him whilst I sorted my youngest boy.
Life can be so cruel at times and you need all your strength to get through petiods such as these. When the police delivered the message that my son was dead I felt numb with disbelief. No he can’t of, I am going to bring him through here! Knowone can explain the raw and constant pain you suffer when you loose a child. Even though it was through drink and drugs I still miss my son so very much. It doesn’t matter how they died you still feel useless. Tonight reading this through I felt like running into the hospital corridor and screaming my son is dead and its my fault. I’m his mum and I wasn’t there for him! Deep down I shall always feel like this. If and buts?
But no matter how much you suffer in personal grief there is always something to slap you in the face telling you that things could be so much worse. What my gran used to call a big dose of reality. From my hospital bed, I watched a young woman with no hair who could hardly walk struggle to the toilet. So obviously a cancer sufferer and I thought shame on you Gina wasting even one minute on self pity, you have so much to be thankful for.