It was only 1 week ago. I am still angry and scared. I am tired (which is normal).
My normal crazy day, Friday. My middle entitled sister's birthday. Another day without my child. A long work day. This same sister who had been in surgery 2 days before. My same child who had a medical emergency 2 days before. My family who had still not heard from any cousins or family members in Puerto Rico following Hurricane Maria. Two weeks prior, I had complained to my doctor that I had felt weak. No clue how telling that was and how I should have paid closer attention.
I am in the office just finishing lunch. I wander into the office kitchen and next thing I know, I am in the back of an ambulance - on the way to the emergency room.
I blacked out. According to colleagues, suffered a grand mal seizure. Breathing but unconscious for over 25 minutes. A week later, the hematoma on my head still a pretty good reminder that my 200 lb self hit the ground rather hard.
In the ambulance hearing the explanation. Arriving at the hospital wanting to call my boyfriend. Reaching him to let him know what happened. My colleague arriving, explaining to me what happened. Telling me she was able to reach my youngest sister and she was on her way to the hospital. My sister finally arrives, just in time for me to get some lovely CT scans and additional testing. Letting me know she reached my parents. More tests. They want to keep me overnight.
More questions. Trying to piece together what happened. How it happened. I was taking a new antibiotic, but only 1 dose. Pretty sure that couldn't be it. I was exhausted. Like 5 hours sleep in 2 days. I had 2 cups of coffee. My blood levels were so low, doctors double-checked results. I was dehydrated.
My boyfriend stops by for a couple of hours and then heads home. No one else comes to visit.
I shoulder the burden for my household. I'm behind on all the bills. Terrified that I should have been on my way to pick up my son at my parents. This could have all happened in the car with a very different result.
I don't sleep in the hospital. More tests all night. More blood work. Lucky to get released midday next day.
I call my parents to let them know I'm released, and my mother berates me for 20 minutes. Seriously? She is angry that she wasn't called first. She is actually mistaken but guess that doesn't matter. Oh and they still took my middle sister out for her birthday dinner last night. So what my youngest sister and I have known for a lifetime has been proven - she is the favorite, even in an emergency. It could have been the last time they had seen me. Or the last opportunity for me to see my child. Since we had no clue what made me pass out or if it would happen again.
As grateful as I am that my little sister (and niece) came to the hospital, I am angry that a birthday dinner was more important than my being in the hospital.
This same middle sister attempted suicide a few years back. I lived in a different state and just hopped on a plane, no thought. No one had to tell me to be here. My parents never even knew I was coming until I was already parking the rental car asking for the room number at the hospital.
So many friends don't have their moms, mine is here and couldn't be bothered to show up at the hospital.
I just want to run away and take my son someplace. I don't even get to see him that much during the week. I feel like such a failure as a parent. Now I'm feeling like a failure as a daughter.
I am literally killing myself working too hard, trying to do it all. Wondering if it's even worth it.
Right now thinking of quitting everything, being homeless. Wondering if I could get enough unemployment or assistance to at least keep up a car payment.
