Crisis of Identity

It was a little after 10.15am by the time I parked the car and made my way to the ICU.

While I completely understand the hospital’s policy on banning visitors bringing flowers, cards and gifts into the ICU, it didn’t make my arriving empty handed any better. It felt so wrong not bringing mum a big bunch of get-well flowers to cheer her up.

There was no change when I arrived. Mum was still sleeping. I hailed a passing Nurse. ‘Excuse me…’ The Nurse smiled pleasantly as she approached. ‘I was just wondering how my mother is doing…’ I said, with a gesture towards mum.

‘Your mother is doing really well. Her body has been through some trauma so she is resting at the moment. It’s the best thing for her right now.’

’Is she having trouble breathing…? I said, holding an imaginary face mask to my face.

‘You are aware your mother suffered a heart attack, aren’t you…?’

‘Yes.’

‘It is completely normal for anyone who suffers a cardiac arrest to require some form of intubation and ventilation with a breathing machine. The type of assisted breathing required depends on the severity of the heart attack.’

‘I see…’

‘In your mum’s case, she has what we call non-invasive ventilation… This is where she receives oxygen through a full face mask, rather than the more invasive breathing tube…’ She gently touched my arm. ‘That is a good sign…it means she is breathing on her own.’

‘Is she sedated…?’

‘Yes, she is. This is just to help her rest while her body recovers. As I said…she has been through quite a traumatic experience.’

‘OK. Thanks…’ My pained eyes shifted to mum then to the beeping and flashing machines keeping her alive.

‘You’re welcome to sit with your mother, but it is likely she will be sleeping most of today… This is completely normal though, OK…’ she reassured.

The return walk to my car was depressing. Seeing mum in a comatose state in Intensive Care is difficult. Not being able to speak to her, to know she is well and that there are no lasting side effects from her heart attack, makes the extended wait all the more agonizing.

When the elevator doors freed me from my containment, I jumped out like a short-priced favourite at Ascot and moved quickly through the Cardiac Care Ward corridors. I was on a mission.

It is the end of mum’s 3rd day in hospital and I am still yet to talk to her. I am still yet to be reassured there are no physical or neurological effects from her heart attack.

When I called the hospital yesterday for an update, mum’s condition remaining unchanged, so I never visited. It is too upsetting seeing her like that.

The timely good-news text message I received from Georgie this afternoon lifted my spirits. Mum was awake and has been taken off assisted breathing. She is being moved out to the Cardiac Care Ward.

From the elevator I navigated the corridors like a seasoned visitor, thanks to the directions in Georgie’s text.

The door to 214 was closed when I arrived. After slowly opening the heavy timber door I peered inside. It was a two-bedroom ward. The afternoon sun bathed the room in natural light, courtesy of the large north facing window at the end of the room. Two beds, each enclosed by pale blue curtains, lined the right side of the room.

A Nurse emerged from the curtains surrounding the bed furthest from the door. She smiled. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Vicky Miller…?’ I said, alternating a questioning point between the closed curtains.

‘Ah...’ She moved to the bed closest to the door and peeled open the curtain at the corner. ‘Vicky is in this one,’ she said.

Mum’s eyes were closed when I peered in through the opening. Beeping and flashing machines stood watching over her.

‘What beautiful flowers…’ the Nurse said. ‘Would you like me to get you a vase for those?’

‘That would be great. Thanks.’

Mum’s eyes opened during my exchange with the Nurse. With dark rings under hers eyes and a pale complexion, she looked drawn. ‘Hi…’ I whispered then moved in to kiss her cheek.

‘Hello, Darling…’ I handed mum her flowers. They were the largest bunch I could find. ‘They are beautiful… but you shouldn’t be wasting your money on me…’ she said as she favourably examined the floral arrangement.

I jabbed a thumb towards the door. ‘A Nurse is getting a vase for you…’ I said quietly, as I slid into the chair beside her bed. I took hold of mum’s hand. ‘How ya feeling…?’ I whispered. ‘I gotta say… You scared the hell out me, Mum…’

‘I’m so sorry I put you through that, Kade… But I’m feeling OK… I suppose…’ She said, albeit unconvincingly.

The Nurse returned with a large glass vase, which she filled with mum’s flowers then placed them on a wall-mounted shelf.

‘Thank you for that,’ I said to the Nurse as she departed. ‘Do you remember much of what happened…?’ I asked mum.

Mum slowly rocked her head. ‘No… I have no memory of what happened. All I know is I woke up in hospital.’

I sandwiched mum’s hand between mine. ’That’s OK… There’s not much to remember. ‘You’re OK now though… Right?’

She smiled. ‘Thanks to you… From what I’m told.’

‘Thanks to the Paramedics and the staff at this hospital, mum. They’re the heroes here…’

‘I remember a young Kade moaning about going through all that training for his bronze medallion. He hated the CPR practice… “It’s a waste of time”, he said. “I’m never going to use it…”, he moaned, as he tried to get out of it. It interfered with his footy training. Do you remember...?’

With a conceding nod, I said, ‘I do.’

Mum’s mouth straightened. Her eyebrows arched. She made her point. Nothing further needed to be said, but I did anyway. ’You always told me, “You never know when your CPR training might be the difference between someone living or dying…”. Tears welled in my eyes. ‘I was so scared I would lose you…’

Mum placed her hand on mine. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Darling… thanks to you… and the staff in here.’

It was so relieving to chat to mum again. There are no apparent residual effects from her heart attack. Her conversations are lucid. She is alert and aware. ‘You just need to get better…’ I said.

The curtains parted and Georgie entered. ‘Knock. Knock. Hi Vicky…’ She smiled at me then moved to the opposite side the bed. ‘How are you feeling this evening…?’ she asked, as she checked one of flashing machines.

‘I’m feeling good thanks, Georgie…’

‘Good to hear…’ Georgie said. She made her way to my side of the bed.

‘This gorgeous girl is Georgie…’ mum began. ‘She’s been caring for me in here.’ Her eyes followed Georgie. ‘This is my son, Kade, Georgie…’ mum said proudly. Her mouth fell open as she watched me stand from my chair and greet Georgie with a kiss. Mum’s eyebrows arched. ‘Oh. You two have met…?’

‘Georgie and I went out for breakfast a few days ago…’ I said.

Georgie threaded her arm around mine. ‘And we’re going out for dinner on Friday night,’ she said.

‘How long was I under…?’ mum asked rhetorically. ‘So much has happened…’ she said. ‘You do make a handsome couple, though…’

‘I’ll pop back in later to see how you are going, Vicky, OK…’ Georgie said. She grabbed my hand. ‘And I’ll see you later,’ she said to me, followed by a departure kiss.

I watched her disappear through the curtains. When I looked back at mum, she smiled knowingly. ‘She is lovely, Kade.’

‘She is…’

The two hours of my visit was spent discussing anything and everything, to bring mum up to speed with what has been happening since she was admitted.

Everything that is, except for the one subject that contributed to mum being in here— Brent Dawes. Especially not the upcoming civil court case, which mum will not be attending; fully recovered or not.