Big accidents and Bigger mistakes
List of "Have you ever" questions this week.
Ever make a big mistake that you regret?
Ever had an accident you wish never happened?
Ever caused an accident you wish had never happened?
Well...
Both of those things happened this week with a bigger impact and bigger heartache than I anticipated. Here's a couple of other questions I have to ask this week, on my Friday wrap-up:
Ever think you're whining too much?
Ever think you complain too much?
Ever been told you ask too many questions?
Ever beat yourself up after making a big mistake?
Ever not trust yourself?
Ever say something stupid that you regret?
Yes, yes, yes. I answer yes to all of these questions of myself today, and more so than any other day this week. Why? Because just when I think I'm getting all of my **it together and feeling more positive about the world, and my life in it, I royally f*ck it up. Or, at least, I think I have. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.
Let me preface this by saying this post is all about me. And you may relate. Especially you if you're a mom and one who cares about her friends. And her friends' children.
Being a mom takes me to a world of feeling things I never thought I'd feel before. And I've always been a "sensitive" person. To a fault. I feel deeply, and consciously, and love from my heart. Being a mother has taken my feelings to a place where my true feelings are unlike those I've felt before, including empathy, sadness, cheerfulness, fear, trust, pain and possibility, love and hope. Those are just the tip of the "feelings"iceberg. I'm sure some dads feel this way as well, but I'm a woman. A mom-woman. A woman-friend. And a mom who has been living the life of keeping her son alive in a medical system that is not suited for chronically ill patients. The American healthcare system was built on "acute" care and a capitalistic mentality. It just is what it is.
Last week, I asked the universe to help me heal some things that I thought I could use improvement with. A big one for me is trying to help others too much, when they have not asked for help. I help others before helping myself. You know the oxygen mask story in the airplane of "place your mask on first" right? I keep forgetting to do that. It's my nature. I want to jump in and offer comfort and help and "do" something, anything, to help my friends, neighbors, family. Why? Maybe it's because my father always told me I was selfish. Because he still does. Maybe it's because I like the way it makes me feel. Maybe it's because I'm so helpless in helping my little guy get back to health in a completely recoverable and sustainable way. Maybe it's because I truly, truly want divine sources to surround me and help me to help others. Maybe...
A couple of weeks ago, I received a note from a friend that shook my world. Her son was in a horrible accident. He almost died. Somehow, he got wedged between two cars while helping a friend, and the back of his legs were badly smashed and burned through force of one vehicle pressing on the next with his limbs between them. It was a freak accident. He is alive. He is OK...but he will have a long recovery. It was an accident. What happened before isn't important. It was an accident. What happened after was nothing short of a miracle. He thought he was going to die, and so, in true faith, asked his friend who caused the crazy sequence of events to stay with him and pray with him at his side. He thought he was going to die. (There was a lot of blood, and he almost lost one of his legs). The story on his end played out in a surreal way. And I envision his friend holding him and praying and comforting him while medical professionals got to the scene. It was a big accident. Horrific as it was, my friend's son is a true man of faith and is known as the "thank you" guy around the hospital. Here's where I made a mistake.
I sent a note in great distress to a group of lovely, supportive women in a social media group in which I belong, stating that they should be careful to not release him from the hospital too soon. It was a short note letting them know that I was praying for him, etc. The bigger mistake? I said the hospitals are there to "make a profit." and that well... "That's their job." I was fearful and scared and didn't want him to have to face what we have faced in my family...hospitals (no less than three) wanting to get us out of their environments with "risk of infection" being higher in the hospital (it can be, but not necessarily always) than at home.
It was not the right thing for me to say at the right time.
I was not "filtering" my writing nor my emotions.
I was scared.
Fear was taking over every thought in my brain.
I was panicked over something out of my control.
Background story:
At the end of 2015, we went to the hospital for what is considered a "normal" procedure for adults. My son did not come out of that procedure in a "normal" way. He was seven. He asperated in anesthesia, having been given a pain medication without my consent because the anesthesiologist thought that looking at his body he needed it. The result? The medical techs were unable to stabilize him in the proper amount of time. And they all wanted to get home (it was New Year's Eve, of course). In short, they sent us home too soon. What happened afterward was a dizzying day of going to no fewer than 3 hospitals in less than 20 hours. All because we were sent home too soon. Days later, infection set in, and we were worse off than before. Why does this matter? What was the big mistake?
My bigger mistake in writing what I wrote (to my support group, no less), was a bigger mistake - me projecting my stuff onto my friend out of fear. Did she need that? No! Was she scared? I'll bet! I can't even imagine! Was it totally none of my business? You betcha! Yes again! I am aware that being the mom of a chronically ill kid makes me someone that just needs to "shut the *u*bleep*k up" most days. Because my experience isn't another person's experience and it's not helpful to offer advice or care to someone who doesn't need one more stressor in their lives. I royally made a mistake all right.
So what did I do? I did what I thought was best after receiving a "calling me out on it" from one of the other ladies in the group and wrote an apology from my heart. Like it or not, I screwed up. I was wrong. Projection. It's a wicked thing. I felt ashamed, still feel ashamed. Literally, I feel so stupid for hitting the "send" button when I did. Because I am truly sorry for causing stress to anyone going through a crisis caused by an accident and having to go through the process of dealing with a (medical?) system that is broken. I don't want another preventable accident to happen on top of that one. I've watched another friend whose son was literally blown up by an IED nearly lose his life go through a lot of surgeries, infections, fighting for his life, and I'll never forget the torment I felt for her. We all remember what that was like. Again, a good outcome. He's alive and doing well. But seeing this similar scenario play out in a short space of time has been so dreadfully painful. This guy doesn't have the benefit of military medics who deal with it every day. UT is not exactly a "high violent crime" medical center of the universe. This isn't Chicago, folks.
Bottom line? Accidents and mistakes allow me to be truly helpful. I need to chose the best ways to be most helpful and refrain from chosing fear over love. I am not perfect. I'm sure my readers understand how similarly un-perfect they are. Everybody wants to stay positive and do exceptionally well and say all the right things and be the best-looking person on social media. I'm here to say big accidents, big mistakes, and bad stuff happens. We are not all "happy" all the time. It might be our jobs to be happy, and if that's the truth then why all the antidepressants? I dunno. I just know that when I make a mistake, I admit it. Why the medical profession doesn't do the same is beyond my comprehension. This earth assignment is a tough one. Let's give each other a break. Let's be forgiving. Especially when the person who makes the mistake is truly, truly sorry.
Meditation for today:
God, surround me with your love and the angels so I can be strong, loving and kind to myself and those around me. Let every encounter I have show that divine forces surround me. Thy will...Thy will...Thy will...not my will be done. Amen
Ever make a big mistake that you regret?
Ever had an accident you wish never happened?
Ever caused an accident you wish had never happened?
Well...
Both of those things happened this week with a bigger impact and bigger heartache than I anticipated. Here's a couple of other questions I have to ask this week, on my Friday wrap-up:
Ever think you're whining too much?
Ever think you complain too much?
Ever been told you ask too many questions?
Ever beat yourself up after making a big mistake?
Ever not trust yourself?
Ever say something stupid that you regret?
Yes, yes, yes. I answer yes to all of these questions of myself today, and more so than any other day this week. Why? Because just when I think I'm getting all of my **it together and feeling more positive about the world, and my life in it, I royally f*ck it up. Or, at least, I think I have. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.
Let me preface this by saying this post is all about me. And you may relate. Especially you if you're a mom and one who cares about her friends. And her friends' children.
Being a mom takes me to a world of feeling things I never thought I'd feel before. And I've always been a "sensitive" person. To a fault. I feel deeply, and consciously, and love from my heart. Being a mother has taken my feelings to a place where my true feelings are unlike those I've felt before, including empathy, sadness, cheerfulness, fear, trust, pain and possibility, love and hope. Those are just the tip of the "feelings"iceberg. I'm sure some dads feel this way as well, but I'm a woman. A mom-woman. A woman-friend. And a mom who has been living the life of keeping her son alive in a medical system that is not suited for chronically ill patients. The American healthcare system was built on "acute" care and a capitalistic mentality. It just is what it is.
Last week, I asked the universe to help me heal some things that I thought I could use improvement with. A big one for me is trying to help others too much, when they have not asked for help. I help others before helping myself. You know the oxygen mask story in the airplane of "place your mask on first" right? I keep forgetting to do that. It's my nature. I want to jump in and offer comfort and help and "do" something, anything, to help my friends, neighbors, family. Why? Maybe it's because my father always told me I was selfish. Because he still does. Maybe it's because I like the way it makes me feel. Maybe it's because I'm so helpless in helping my little guy get back to health in a completely recoverable and sustainable way. Maybe it's because I truly, truly want divine sources to surround me and help me to help others. Maybe...
A couple of weeks ago, I received a note from a friend that shook my world. Her son was in a horrible accident. He almost died. Somehow, he got wedged between two cars while helping a friend, and the back of his legs were badly smashed and burned through force of one vehicle pressing on the next with his limbs between them. It was a freak accident. He is alive. He is OK...but he will have a long recovery. It was an accident. What happened before isn't important. It was an accident. What happened after was nothing short of a miracle. He thought he was going to die, and so, in true faith, asked his friend who caused the crazy sequence of events to stay with him and pray with him at his side. He thought he was going to die. (There was a lot of blood, and he almost lost one of his legs). The story on his end played out in a surreal way. And I envision his friend holding him and praying and comforting him while medical professionals got to the scene. It was a big accident. Horrific as it was, my friend's son is a true man of faith and is known as the "thank you" guy around the hospital. Here's where I made a mistake.
I sent a note in great distress to a group of lovely, supportive women in a social media group in which I belong, stating that they should be careful to not release him from the hospital too soon. It was a short note letting them know that I was praying for him, etc. The bigger mistake? I said the hospitals are there to "make a profit." and that well... "That's their job." I was fearful and scared and didn't want him to have to face what we have faced in my family...hospitals (no less than three) wanting to get us out of their environments with "risk of infection" being higher in the hospital (it can be, but not necessarily always) than at home.
It was not the right thing for me to say at the right time.
I was not "filtering" my writing nor my emotions.
I was scared.
Fear was taking over every thought in my brain.
I was panicked over something out of my control.
Background story:
At the end of 2015, we went to the hospital for what is considered a "normal" procedure for adults. My son did not come out of that procedure in a "normal" way. He was seven. He asperated in anesthesia, having been given a pain medication without my consent because the anesthesiologist thought that looking at his body he needed it. The result? The medical techs were unable to stabilize him in the proper amount of time. And they all wanted to get home (it was New Year's Eve, of course). In short, they sent us home too soon. What happened afterward was a dizzying day of going to no fewer than 3 hospitals in less than 20 hours. All because we were sent home too soon. Days later, infection set in, and we were worse off than before. Why does this matter? What was the big mistake?
My bigger mistake in writing what I wrote (to my support group, no less), was a bigger mistake - me projecting my stuff onto my friend out of fear. Did she need that? No! Was she scared? I'll bet! I can't even imagine! Was it totally none of my business? You betcha! Yes again! I am aware that being the mom of a chronically ill kid makes me someone that just needs to "shut the *u*bleep*k up" most days. Because my experience isn't another person's experience and it's not helpful to offer advice or care to someone who doesn't need one more stressor in their lives. I royally made a mistake all right.
So what did I do? I did what I thought was best after receiving a "calling me out on it" from one of the other ladies in the group and wrote an apology from my heart. Like it or not, I screwed up. I was wrong. Projection. It's a wicked thing. I felt ashamed, still feel ashamed. Literally, I feel so stupid for hitting the "send" button when I did. Because I am truly sorry for causing stress to anyone going through a crisis caused by an accident and having to go through the process of dealing with a (medical?) system that is broken. I don't want another preventable accident to happen on top of that one. I've watched another friend whose son was literally blown up by an IED nearly lose his life go through a lot of surgeries, infections, fighting for his life, and I'll never forget the torment I felt for her. We all remember what that was like. Again, a good outcome. He's alive and doing well. But seeing this similar scenario play out in a short space of time has been so dreadfully painful. This guy doesn't have the benefit of military medics who deal with it every day. UT is not exactly a "high violent crime" medical center of the universe. This isn't Chicago, folks.
Bottom line? Accidents and mistakes allow me to be truly helpful. I need to chose the best ways to be most helpful and refrain from chosing fear over love. I am not perfect. I'm sure my readers understand how similarly un-perfect they are. Everybody wants to stay positive and do exceptionally well and say all the right things and be the best-looking person on social media. I'm here to say big accidents, big mistakes, and bad stuff happens. We are not all "happy" all the time. It might be our jobs to be happy, and if that's the truth then why all the antidepressants? I dunno. I just know that when I make a mistake, I admit it. Why the medical profession doesn't do the same is beyond my comprehension. This earth assignment is a tough one. Let's give each other a break. Let's be forgiving. Especially when the person who makes the mistake is truly, truly sorry.
Meditation for today:
God, surround me with your love and the angels so I can be strong, loving and kind to myself and those around me. Let every encounter I have show that divine forces surround me. Thy will...Thy will...Thy will...not my will be done. Amen
Comments
Post a Comment