Thread by @KarenSchuldt1

While this is kind, an appreciated sentiment, and thoughtful, it is often difficult for people (like me) who have a hard time asking for help because it feels pushy, greedy, and maybe even embarrassing. For instance, it would feel super weird to me to say:
intellectualtakeout.org/article/why-sa…

Well, I could use some food because I can't get to a store. Someone to do my dishes, laundry, and basic cleaning because I haven't been home. And, the MOST uncomfortable, I asking for money because you can't pay the mortgage, bills, or buy groceries due to expenses incurred as a

result of an ongoing and/or medical issue or emergency, a death in the immediate family, and/or the loss of income (injury, surgery, illness, natural disasters, layoff, birth, death, etc.). Additionally, a person experiencing any, some, or perhaps ALL three of these situations...

would, most likely, NOT be in a proper state of mind to even KNOW what they might need or want, or at least could have difficulty in making a request that might make make them feel embarrassed, are being too needy. Or weak. Or presumptuous. Or greedy. Or, worst of all, like a...

BIG FAT LOSER! I say these things from experience. I have been dealing with my son's non-stop, intractable seizures (from congenital schizencephaly), with countless neurology/neurosurgical doctors visits, in-and outpatient hospital testing and prolonged observations, culminating

in risky but necessary/life-saving brain surgeries; with 3 weeks of in-hospital observation, surgeries, and recovery, followed by months of outpatient recovery (physical/mental/emotional, etc.) He also had damage to his vision, which was complicated and worsened by brain

from the surgery. I had to lead him, walking backwards in front of him while holding his hands, through the house and everywhere he went. (Yes, even into the bathroom. 😳) We also had to deal with his extreme mood swings, severe anxiety, confusion, lots of memory, and intense...

depression while his brain, body, and soul worked to recover from this high-risk, life-changing (and life-saving) brain surgery, which took about 6 hours for each (2) surgery performed, 1 week apart. We faced enormous expenses for not only the medical aspects of this, but for...

travel expenses to and from the medical center in high-cost NYC, with several short, as well as extended, stays because it is about 4 hours from our home. Then, while my son continues to recover, & we continue to travel for his follow-up appts, my mother began having heart...

problems. While accompanying me to a uterine biopsy with a D&C, she experienced symptoms of a heart attack- pain down her left arm, up into her shoulder and jaw, shortness of breath, sweating, and strong pressure on her chest which subsides after a minute or so. I made her

promise to call her heart doctor as soon as I went into the OR. (She had already had several catheterizations with stents implanted and open heart true bypass surgery. During the last Cath with 5 stent implants, she had a major complication and coded on the table about 3 hours

into the operation. She was "down" (dead 😰) for 23 minutes as they worked furiously to bring her back. Meanwhile, we sat in the surgical holding room, which was the size of, and as claustrophobic & suffocating as, what I imagine one of those trendy little "tiny houses" might be.

We waited. Absolutely terrified. Absolutely hopeful. We waited. While nurses spoke in hushed tones. Offered coffee with some cautious reassurance. We waited. Thinking this would be over soon. That this would END soon. We cried. We hugged. We paced. Finally, the surgeon emerges

from the OR and makes his way toward us through the myriad obstacles of medical equipment, mobile computer stations, nurses rushing about in the chaos, and a few straggling patients, who's decidedly poor attempt at pulling their hospital gowns across their exposed buttocks

produced minimal success. He wore a look of deep seriousness, but delivered his words in soft, hushed tones. He certainly did not mince words, as he described the complication she encountered and the resultant necessity of life-saving measures. He described the prognosis as

"cautiously optimistic," with assurances that she was stable while simultaneously warning that she was in critical condition. He explained that she had coded and was unresponsive for 23 minutes, therefore, there was, as yet, no way of knowing what permanent damage may have been

done. So, we relocated to the CCU waiting room to endure the next seemingly interminable vigil, once again vacillating between intense fear and prayerful hope. Full of tubes and surrounded by intimiding machines and diligent, adept nurses, my mother was in for the fight for her

life, while we could only stand by impotently, quietly: while screaming internally to give outlet to and to process the fear, frustration; the utter and complete, deep-down, agonizing pain of potentially losing my mother. There was absolutely nothing we could do, but wait. It

was 10 long, excruciatingly slow days filled with both uncertainty and encouragement before they discontinued sedation and woke her. She was drowsy, but responsive. Soon, they were assessing for brain and/or heart damage, of which she had neither! Soon after these evaluations,

They assisted her out of bed into a chair. She was quite weak from the lack of activity, but happy to be out of bed, and, obviously, to be alive! About 10 minutes later, she had a stroke. 😰 The doctors and nurses immediately began implementing emergency stroke protocol. After

this setback, it took about 10 more days before she was strong enough and able to go home. Of course, recovery after such a traumatic experience (she died for 23 minutes AND had a stroke!) is a long, arduous journey, but we were all thrilled my Mom survived and our time with her

had been prolonged, giving us an appreciation for the time we would able to spend with her.
I love my mother with all my heart, to the depths of my soul. I am STILL eternally grateful. I cherish every moment, every memory we have shared.
This was 4 years ago. So much has

transpired since then then, it's hard to believe!
But I must sleep. Perhaps tomorrow....

@threadreaderapp unroll please