I am sitting at Michael's bedside. We are in a new room. Its a single. I would guess that it is a room to die in. It's spacious and there is a garden outside the window. In the other room we were near the hall and could not see out the window near his room mate. Im glad they decided to move Mike here. The energy is good and peaceful, just the kind of place I hoped for.
Ive surrendered myself to the care of my loved ones. Cris has been driving me around. Now Sue has arrived and will do the back and forth driving. We met for dinner at a coffee shop near by. Now we are ready for what lies ahead. Mike has been resting quietly since we gave him the sedative along with the morphine this afternoon around 2:30. Frank has been with him all this time. He says he hasnt moved since then. I asked the nurses to turn him. It isnt good to lie in one position so long.
I sent Frank home for a well deserved rest. He has had no sleep since 2:30 last night.
Mike is no longer involved with this world. Even when they turned him he was unresponsive.
Earlier today when I was home, I couldnt stop crying. I tried to sleep. But all I did was cry. So I called my wonderful psychiatrist, Dr Sanders. He was so sympathetic. He has been my friend for 10 years. It was with his skill as a pharmacological psychiatrist that I finally got my bipolar in balance. This whole experience has the potential for throwing me off. But Im determined to stay centered. With that in mind, we devised a strategy. I will be taking low doses of the medication that I usually take at night that causes drowsiness and sleep and balances my mood. I will have Susan to drive me. Katie and Bruce are coming tomorrow. I already feel more peaceful.But I am tired, weary to the bone.
This pain in my heart will always be there to remind me of the son I have lost. I will learn to live with it and integrate it into the rest of my life.
There is such a long time between breaths. I find myself pausing from this to wait and see if he takes another breath. How odd it must seem to my readers that I would be writing in my blog while sitting by my son's death bed. This is a strange world we live in now, where our most intimate experiences can be shared instantly with our loved ones, no matter how far away they are. I write about this to bring you into the room with me. Thank you for sharing our journey. And God bless all of you who have been with us through it all.
Michael, My Son This blog is to chronicle my son, Michael's battle with alcoholism and bipolar disorder Michael passed away on June 4, 2011 of acute alcoholic liver failure at the age of 42
Sal,
ReplyDeleteI continue to follow Mike's progress via your blog. My sisters and brothers have spoken so eloquently that I feel like I don't have much to add. I have been resisting the temptation to come down, as I feel like Mary, Sue, Katie and Bruce, and others are so better equipped to provide the comfort you need.
My visit would be a selfish attempt to reconnect with Mike one more time, though I also feel like Frank could use a round of golf. If I didn't just have knee surgery the scales may have tipped the other way and I would be heading down.
While on the surface it seems like Mike left us months or years ago, and I believe my cute little blonde-haired nephew that swam in our pool, the one we dropped off a cabin deck into the snow, the boy that opened presents under our tree, hiked the mountains with his family, the teenager that helped his dad prove the O'Briens were better in basketball, became a critical thinker that was engaging and fascinating to talk to, the man that worked and remained productive while battling demons we can only imagine, remains in our hearts and minds and somehow knows his family and friends are there for him, and you... and he cares. But, just as importantly, I believe that when Mike is released from what attacks him in this world, his peace and spirit will again fill our hearts with the memories of all that was good about Mike- and there was so very much. I hope we will all be filled with the peace he finds.
The strength and grace that you and Frank have shown is truly inspiring.
Your brother, Skip
Oh Skip!! Thank you. From the bottom of my heart!
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