The call came in June. “Kathleen, I’m in the hospital in terrible pain.” With that began an odyssey of dark and light that continued for the remainder of the year. My mother had undiagnosed digestive disorders for the previous 14 months. She went from specialist to specialist, lost over 20 pounds, but was given no diagnosis. Finally, her gut twisted itself and refused to unbind. She was taken to the hospital, had emergency surgery, a resection because the twisted part had gone into gangrene, and almost died on the operating table because of a heart attack during the procedure. However, she didn’t die. She came out of the surgery, struggled back to health, and was released from the hospital two weeks later.
As I shuttled between her place 20 miles from mine I saw she was failing. I’d just started a new business, and tried to juggle work with overseeing care for mom. One day I was up helping her, noticed that she was trying to open one of her heavy windows, and feared she’d fall out of the tower apartment in which she lived. So I looked for window stops, saw something on the top that looked like it might be that, pulled them down…lifted the window to see if it worked, and the next thing I knew, the heavy metal framed window was crashing on my temple…less than 1/8 inch from my eye. I felt the thud and was stunned. However, I was grateful that the blow was there and not in my eye. I was very fortunate, and made a mental note of gratitude. I seemed to be alright, put the window back, and sat down for a bit to get my bearings.
As the day wore on, a huge lump began to emerge, and by the next day and the day after the whole side of my face was black and blue. I felt weak and a little disoriented. I had a concussion. Because of this, I couldn’t work. Because I couldn’t work, I realized I needed to bring my mother to my home so I could watch her more closely. She was not doing well.
My partner and I drove up to the her apartment early on a Saturday morning and brought her to our place. I was so relieved, and realized that had I not gotten the concussion, I would be working and unable to do this. Another note of gratitude.
The next morning, my mother experienced the same pains she had the day she called 911, and we called an ambulance to take her to the hospital nearest our home. From July 2, she was in the hospital, with two short times of release followed by relapse. She had a complex combination of symptoms that defied diagnosis until one doctor thought about an ailment found in Europeans. He took a biopsy and found one of the culprits Celiac-Sprue…a complete intolerance to wheat and gluten in any form. But then they noted that she also had ischemic colitis, a deterioration of the colon and inability to absorb nutrients.
My mother dropped from 125 lbs. at the onset of her hospitalization to 76 lbs. She was on the verge of death, on the verge of health, and everything in between. A lesser person would have folded given the ordeal she endured. But she was not a lesser person. Instead, she went through the dark night of the soul, struggled with whether or not there is a God, and come out of an inner battle that brought her into a light body she had never known before. She made peace with old hurts, overcame one of her worst traits…extreme impatience, and became a model of an intangible quality we all long to possess.
The entire staff of the hospital marveled at her kindness to them, her appreciation in even the worst moments, and her ineffable light. She weighed next to nothing, but there was a strength and energy that radiated from her that made people stop and feel better because they were in her room. One day her doctor phoned me to tell me the latest prognosis was not good. Her entire intestinal tract was ulcerated, and the blood flow was not getting where it needed to go. Yet, he said to me, “Your mother is the most extraordinary person I have ever encountered. She demonstrates the most unbelievable patience, dignity, and acceptance of what is happening to her. I just can’t get over it.” A few days later my mother told me that she would never be able to describe what she had experienced in the prior six months because it is indescribable. The closest she could come was to say it was as though all her life she had been a tight bud waiting to open, and this experience and the inner battles she endured brought her into full bloom. She also said that if someone asked her if she would be willing to go through the entire ordeal again if she knew the outcome, she would say “Yes” without hesitation. That says a lot. And that comes to the point of this article.
We never know the reason for certain circumstances being planted in our lives. They are the seeds that bear fruit we don’t always understand. But they are also the opportunities for deeper self-knowing when we open to receive whatever comes our way. When we resist, we miss golden opportunities. When we gloss over conditions in an attempt to always be positive, we miss the gifts that are often only found in the dark. Sometimes in order to gain our lives, we have to go through the dark night of the soul. And there may be more than one, just as winter comes more than once in a lifetime. However, just as winter comes, and dark nights come, there is always the light that follows. My mother is an example of someone who faced the worst, has held herself as best she could to accept what was being given, and triumphed in a way that many people never do. We do not have to control or manipulate life to gain the best from it. We merely need to acquiesce…to open to possibilities in what is being presented, and to move from the bud of potential into our own full bloom.
Addendum:
My mother died in January of the following year after her 7 month ordeal. The interesting thing was that when she died the nurses came to me and told me that generally when they know a patient is going to die, they all try to get out of being on duty at that time. However, when it was clear my mother was dying, they all vied to be the ones who would be at her side.
