Fear like a head in the stand.
by Dirk Blader, Victoria
Broadcaster, Aged 45
My mother used to talk of her own death just like she talked about growing roses or gardening all as a matter of fact. I used to protest, "mum dont talk about it .. I dont need to know" but mum was the practical, everything has a place and everything in its place. Her exacting requests and statements from who to call, who to tell, what to do and where to do it was firmly in place in a box in her bedroom.
Many years passed, Mum was always strong and determined. One day, a friend of hers telephoned, "your mum is not very well you should telephone her" later that day I did, and although I spoke to her every Sunday without fail for the last 2o odd years she was different. Vague, resinged to something.
Time passed, another phone call "you must do something about your mother, she is in pain and the doctors wont do anything, I know whats wrong but I cant do anything" was the claim by a nursing sister who was caring for my mother suddenly taken to hospital. I hardly had time to arrange a flight when the telephone rang at 6am, "your mother is very very ill you should come to see her as soon as you can.. we are operating in 2 hours". A flight of several hours ahead of me, my mind filled with fear, she always said "if anything happens dont you let them keep me alive"... words haunting me making me numb.
I arrived, rushed to her bed side, the nurse in ICU directed me to bed 3, I stood there looking at this woman, i did'nt know her, this was my mother? the nurse put her hand on my shoulder its ok sit... within moments I felt like she was dead, the nurse came to me and said "there has been a mistake this is not your mother", it was then I thought how stupid I was to think that in the face of death the outside appearance of some one you have known all your life and love dearly changes.
Directed to another area bed 2 on the opposite side of the room, there she lay, wires, respirator, beeping, a caring nurse rubbing her feet, tucking her in, "take her hand talk to her".. can she hear me? .. "we dont know maybe".. Its Dirk Mum, im here now, the respirator pumps and monitors beep, i sit there in shock, terrified at my own Mothers death, for surely it will come soon.
The staff let me sit there for almost 3 hours, then at 2am, "Hello im your mothers Doctor, she is not responding to medication, she had a major operation, it doesnt look good.. we would like your permission to turn off the respirator"... This is like aiming the gun and pulling the trigger, turn off the respirator.. wont this mean she will die? "there is nothing else we can do, the respiratior is keeping her ticking, the drugs are keeping her comfortable".
I was faced with the single most shocking decission ever one can make. It took me no less than 10 seconds to say.. If you think its best yes ok.
"Just go outside get a cup of tea and comeback in 10 minutes, we will get her comfortable"... I remember walking to a machine, i had just taken the step of telling some one to turn off equipment and let my mother die , yet I could not even work out how to make myself a cup of tea. Time passes I walk back to the ward and she is there, no more wires, just a drip, a machine pumping drugs into her to "keep her comfortable" the monitor now silent but the blip on the screen. "she will pass shortly just hold her hand". Hold my mothers hand, I have just told you to kill her, what if she can hear everything, what if she is crying out to live... tears would not come, I said there watching her motionless face, her cold hands, the blip blipping.
It took 40 minutes for the blip to finally stop blipping. for 20 minutes it blipped slowly maybe one blip every 15 seconds.
A hand on my shoulder, she has gone now. A Hug from a stranger, a nurse. and outside into the crisp morning air.
Now to mourn. Oh what have I done.
Copyright © Australian Museum, 2009