Pain and Guilt

Mom sitting with my Dad last year while he was in rehab.

My 92-year-old mother fell last week and broke her pelvic bone. She's in rehab now and, at times, in a lot of pain. And I sit there, helpless, unable to make it go away. Oh, I pester the nurses and aides, asking them to give her some pain meds, shift her position, do something. They probably can't wait for me to go home.

Every night I pray for my mother to pass peacefully in her sleep. And every morning I wake up feeling guilty for that prayer. Then I go to the rehab center, see her face reflecting pain (and anger), and that prayer creeps back into my consciousness, as does the guilt.

Mom wants to die. She's said it time and time again since my father passed last year and her health started to decline. A bad fall last December and six weeks of rehab left her using a walker. I'm pretty sure she'll need a wheelchair after this one. She hates having to rely on the help of others, especially when it comes to personal care. So I see her pain, her humiliation, and true desire to leave this world and I pray, knowing in my heart that she will be in a better place.

Here's what's really bothering me. There's a part of me that selfishly wants her to die, because it would be easier for me, too. No more worrying about her. No more having to watch her in pain, both physical and emotional. No more guilt for not living close by and seeing my wonderful sister-in-law have to take on the day-to-day care giving. So I pray for forgiveness.

And the cycle continues.