On the day of Sam’s surgery, I was lost. Carrying my laptop and all papers to the hospital waiting room to keep busy, I realized my brain function and focus level was its record low!
The surgery lasted about 7 hours including pre- and post-op! I had to drive home to my class after the surgeon gave me the good news that the surgery was successful. Expecting full recovery in the post-op, I drove home and conducted my 3 hours class, pretending I know what I am saying and doing.
When Sam arrived home with his father, I was finished with class and hoped for a quiet night, caressing his lovely long curly hair. But things became acute real fast, we had to go to the Emergency Room.
My poor baby was drugged with opioids and seemed quite out of it. When we reached the ER, the security told me I need to wait outside due to covid!
“WHAT???” I said.
“Don’t you see how he looks, don’t you see he needs me?”
I said anxiously.
“Ma’am, he is 22 years old” the attendant there replied.
“But...but...he is drugged, shy, and can’t talk” I desperately replied.
“Sorry...no visitors. Next patient!” The attendant said coldly.
My heart was bursting out of my chest. I felt so helpless!
Started crying as loud as I can, I imagined the mother’s in Iran, whose children are taken to jail for no reason. The pain they must feel. I felt the fear black mothers must experience when their kids leave home. All kinds of fears and horrible thoughts crossed my mind. Will Sam be another number for these hardworking health care providers? Will he get covid, since he could not wear a face mask?
I have had my share of ER visits and know how the squeaking wheels get the most attention, and Sam is the opposite of a squeaking wheel, (Especially when in public.)
The mama bear in me was invoked. I think, people felt it and were careful not to walk or stand next to me on that cool late summer night.
Sam quickly texted me that he has been put in a room, but no one is there. We waited 30 minutes, 40 minutes, then at 60 minutes Sam texted me: “Mom I can’t wait any longer!”
That’s when I became a wounded mama bear. I called the ER and while crying, I loudly begged, literally begged the person on the phone to attend to my son NOW!
5 minutes later, Sam texted that they are helping him, and he should be fine.
I am not proud of my attachment to my children. I am not proud that my protective animal instinct came out. I always thought people who desire food, sex, and material wealth, are in the lower levels of spirituality, but I am no different. I too carry that motherly animal instinct to protect my offspring from my past lives. Some may call it motherly love, I don’t...
You see, if the hulk in me comes out every time I see suffering for every living thing, then that is love. Instinctually screaming at a tired nurse to protect my own offspring is not love.
A new awareness, a new opening for growth, a new intention was provided. I am not all that, I still have much of my lower-self stuck in me and am so happy that it was revealed to me.
Life is all about learning from our experiences, I learned this week, I am far far from becoming perfect. This realization makes me happy and humbler!
Sam is fine and my mama bear side went to sleep again, and hopefully will remain dormant forever!