One of my stepsons is gravely ill in hospital, and the past three weeks have been an emotional roller coaster ride for him and the entire family. He has been my son since he was 11; he just turned 40. This is a personal story of grief, love, anger, acceptance and gratefulness.
He went to Emergency with "the flu" under pressure from the family. They thought he had pneumonia and admitted him. It turned out to be a serious staff infection.
Then tests revealed that the infection had moved to his heart area, and since he has an artificial heart valve, they transferred him to the cardiac unit in a larger hospital. There, various specialists are involved: cardiac, infectious disease, internal medicine and others as needed. One thing was agreed on: the condition of his heart rules out surgery…
Up to that point all of us in the family had been hoping for and expecting the best, but fearing the worst. As a family we all talk and support one another.
During the next few days the real emotional rollercoaster ride began. After more testing, one group of specialists told him one morning he had reason to be optimistic about the antibiotic treatment working. We all felt relieved and glad.
Later the same day another specialist came in and based on the same information said more or less that the antibiotic treatment wouldn’t work. My son went from "I have another chance at life" to "I die in six weeks." Family emotions plummeted.
The next morning brought the news that the other specialist missed something and with aggressive antibiotic treatment he has a good chance of success. Family emotions soared into the stratosphere.
Later that day another specialist came in to tell him, "There is nothing we can do to save you." My son took that to mean "I have two weeks to live." Family emotions plunged into the sub-basement.
Then on Friday with family present, things changed again. It was explained that if things were hopeless, they would be transferring him to palliative care. Instead they are continuing aggressive treatment with a slim chance it will completely remove the infection, and if that doesn’t work he may still have a chance with long-term antibiotics.
He had told me he really wants to live. In a period of a few days he was told life, death, life, death and a chance at life.
His emotions were all over the map: anger, elation, resentment, love, and deep sadness. I can’t imagine the inner turmoil this has created for him. One thing I know for sure is it cannot have helped the healing process.
As for the family, emotions have been raw. We feel surges of outrage about the emotional battering our loved one is having to endure. We are grieving; we are celebrating and then grieving again. We are angry about his being forced into this emotional rollercoaster ride, but at the same time we are thankful for the best in modern medicine.
When I visited him a few days ago, he was calming down from his rage of the previous couple of days. We talked a lot about life and death. He told me he wanted to use whatever time he has to enjoy and appreciate the good, even if he "can only be a spectator." He was taking a page from positive psychology without knowing it.
A day later, the doctor who said a week earlier nothing could save him came back to say he might still have a good summer. Then the same day another group came into his room to explain they were putting a "Do Not Resuscitate" order on his chart because of the condition of his heart.
This time he bounced back emotionally a little faster. He is more accepting of his precarious situation and making an effort to say the positive things to family and friends he wanted to but had not gotten around to.
The irony is that by making peace with his condition he is allowing his body its best chance of healing. When he called today, he actually sounded happy and thankful. His tone was of gratitude.
As many of you know I watched another son die 16 months ago. And one of the important lessons I got from that awful experience was to stay optimistic while at the same time accepting what is. The rollercoaster ride becomes less extreme, and with a bit of personal calm, I can stay healthier and be far more available to my loved ones.
As I have said before, watching one of your children die is a parent’s worst nightmare and a part of parenting for which there is no preparation.
Psychologist Dr. Neill Neill maintains an active practice on Vancouver Island, BC, Canada. He focuses on healthy relationships and life after addictions. He is the author of Living with a Functioning Alcoholic – A Woman’s Survival Guide.
www.neillneill.com
www.ConquerAlcoholism.com
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Dr Neill, I came over from grammology, my site, when I saw you had visited us. I lost a son 17, sixteen years ago in an auto accident and I am currently battling Ovarian Cancer at age 61..being told hopeful and some not so hopeful statistics. I can only say, my support has been prayer. I ask God to fill me with light and strength. I will pray for your and your family. And am glad I found your sight. Hoping your son finds a miracle and is alright…
Blessings, Dorothy from grammology
remember to call gram
http://www.grammology.com
Hi Dorothy,
Thank you for your prayers. Colin died of sudden heart failure on March 31. Our family is reeling, but supporting one another. Prayer is certainly a part of my getting through this.
I will post something I’ve written about Colin’s passing, in the next week or so.
I hope all goes well with your treatment. Love and blessings,
Neill
What a beautiful and heart felt writing. I was brought to tears and I cannot imagine the journey you and your family is going through. My thoughts are with you. Carolyn