It's Not Easy Being Me—by Jamie Levine
Last Wednesday, my mother went into the hospital for major back surgery. According to the surgeon, the procedure went well, but my mom’s recovery has been much more challenging than anyone expected. She’s in excruciating pain, and thus she’s not pushing herself to get up and walk so she can get better and come home. She’s highly-medicated, and lies in bed all day, fading in and out of reality. She’s also incredibly nasty—to the physical therapists who are trying to coax her into walking; to my father, who won’t leave her bedside; and to just about anyone who rubs her the wrong way. It’s tough to see my normally strong and loving mother that way. And it’s even tougher to watch my dad spend every moment he can at the hospital, only eating when someone else is there to remind him to, and driving home after 10:00 every night, only after the security guards kick him out. He’s exhausted.
I’ve been making sure I’m at the hospital every day to help shoulder my father’s burden (and force him to eat lunch), except over the weekend, when Jayda's my responsibility 24/7. And since I can’t force my father to spend some time at home to rest, I simply do everything I can to lighten his load in the house. That means taking care of two cats, returning phone calls from concerned friends and relatives, sorting my parents’ mail, doing my dad’s laundry, and simply keeping the house tidy and well-stocked with everything my family needs. Fortunately I’ve had some help from my family, but it still doesn’t afford me the hours I need in the day to finish my freelance and school work; Jayda comes home from school at 4:30 and I make sure to focus on her until she’s asleep at 8 pm, so I’ve found myself working late every night…with no end to my exhaustion in sight.
Worse yet, my poor daughter—whom I've tried to keep occupied and entertained when I’m with her—is sorely missing her grandma. Every evening, I make sure Jayda calls my mother, who always sounds overjoyed to hear Jayda’s voice, but it’s not enough. Last night, while we were cuddling in her bed, Jayda broke down and cried, and through her sobs, told me, “I miss grandma. And I miss my family.” She’s used to seeing my father and my niece every day—and both of them are constantly at the hospital now. Then, Jayda added, “but I don’t miss you, because you’re here.” And I assured her, “I’ll always be here, Jayda…as much as I can be. Always.”
I’m losing it. But I’m spread so thin that I don’t even have time to break down. And clearly, I have to keep it together for my daughter. So I do. And I always will. Jayda needs her mommy…and I need mine, too. I just hope she gets better—and comes back to all of us—soon.