When I created a category for mum I had no idea what I would use it for, it just seemed like a good idea at the time. So here I am wondering what to write.
It is strange thinking of mum in a coma; I can’t even describe it. Initially I thought she had merely drifted off to the some far off land where the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus live. A magical place where reality can be wished away and dreams can be wished upon. How wrong I was. Santa and the Tooth Fairy always materialise at the right time, people in comas do not make surprise wake ups for birthdays or at Christmas. The worst part of it all is, unlike Santa or the Tooth Fairy, a coma is real.
Maybe if I had studied medicine I would understand comas. I have boogled comas , read articles but I can’t seem to get my head around the concept that a person can lie there for over a year. Just lie there with the occasional blink, yawn, and twitch. And that this person lying there is my mum.
Is it “is my mum” or “was my mum”?.
That’s the ugly part of comas, they lie to you. Comas play mean tricks on you; you know that the person is not dead but yet there is no life in a coma. Like those crazy computer viruses that wipe out your entire hard drive. On the surface it is unclear that something is wrong with your machine; the outside is intact, all the buttons are there. It’s only when you press the “ON” button and the screen stares at you blankly, then you realise there is something wrong.
Comas steal identities. You become the person ‘whose mum is in a coma’ and that person, the person in a coma is no longer called by name. That person is now the patient, the coma patient. Yet we are the ones who have to be patient. Hours, days, minutes, years are just one long wait.
Comas are selfish. Though you wait, patiently, they don’t even hint at what the outcome of the wait is. It’s a bit like waiting at a platform for an English train at those small countryside train stations with only one platform and no timetable display, only worse.
Comas steal your emotions. You are unsure whether to grieve, be thankful, be sad, be happy. So you just sit there feeling something and nothing all at once. Not anger because you can’t be angry at a coma. I am not sure why you can’t be angry at a coma; it just doesn’t feel right to be mad at a coma. Maybe that’s just me?
Comas have no loyality. Hovering between life and death not quite sure which side it’s on.
Comas take over everything, like this post, which was supposed to be about mum