Role Reversal
“What’s wrong?” I asked rushing into my mother’s room.
She placed a finger over the tracheotomy tube that had been inserted into her neck a few months before and struggled to form words, “It’s…” She began to fiddle with the trach tube moving it around.
I tried to move her hand away to get a better look. “Don’t touch it. Let me see.”
Mom didn’t listen. She kept her finger where it was, forcing her breath to make the words. “Feels crooked.”
“Your trach is crooked?” I asked.
She rested her head back on the pillow and nodded having used up what little energy she had.
I took a closer look. “It doesn’t look crooked.”
Mom glared at me and covered the hole once again. “Crooked.”
“It feels crooked on the inside, like in your throat?”
She nodded, her eyes indicating with frustration, how many times do I have to repeat myself?
“Do you think I should replace it?” I asked, hoping she would shake her head no.
Instead, Mom shrugged, as if to say, “Beats the hell out of me.”
The hospital had sent us home with boxes of new, sterile tracheostomy tubes. The problem was I had never actually switched one out before. A nurse spent five minutes talking me through it before they released Mom into my care. That was my training. I took a deep breath and told myself, I can do this. What can be so hard—just take one out and put another back in, right?
I pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully undid the ties that kept the trach securely in place. I wiggled it a little; it seemed loose enough. Just give it a soft tug, it would slip right out; pop a new one in, tie it off, and I’d be done. Simple.
“You ready?”
Mom shrugged. Go for it.
I pulled gently on the tracheotomy tube; just as I’d hoped, it slid out easily.
“Oh. That was easy,” I said feeling quite proud of myself while tossing the old trach into the trashcan.
Relieved, Mom inhaled deeply.
And then I watched in horror as flaps of skin growing around the edges of the incision were quickly sucked into the hole blocking her airway. Mom’s eyes grew huge as she realized no air was entering her lungs. I froze, staring at her and thinking, Oh Dear Lord, I’ve just killed my mother. Mom stared back, no doubt thinking, my stupid kid is trying to kill me.
I panicked and did the only thing that came to mind: I stuck my index finger into the hole. In all my life I never imagined that my finger would be in my mother’s throat. There had been numerous fantasies throughout the years involving my foot up her ass, but never once did I imagine finger in throat.
As I removed my finger the skin flaps followed, clearing her airway. As long as I held the skin pulled back she could breathe.
I looked down at her “It’s OK. We’re cool,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as her.
She nodded.
Unable to let go, I stretched out my free hand, blindly searching for anything that might help. On table near the bed, the tips of my fingers were able to reach a small, clear, plastic tube that was meant to go inside the larger tracheostomy tube. I inserted it into the hole; as I did, the skin flaps disappeared back into her neck. Fortunately, she was still able to get air through the tube. Unfortunately, the tube was the diameter of a drinking straw. The hole in my mother’s neck was the diameter of a dime. If I let go it would slide down her throat.
My mother had taken care of me my entire life; now she needed me to step up and return the favor and I was failing miserably. I didn’t trust myself to go back to the original plan of inserting the new tracheotomy. As calmly as I could, I called to my boyfriend in the other room. “Adam? Hey, Adam. Could you do me a favor,” I said, “and call 911?”
It wasn’t long before eight huge firefighters crowded into my mother’s small bedroom and gathered around her hospital bed.
The Captain stepped forward asking, “What seems to be the trouble?”
“I took out her tracheotomy.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked in a very deliberate tone.
“I was trying to change it, but when I took it out these two flaps of skin sucked into the hole, so I grabbed this tube and I stuck that in the hole. But now if I let go, it will slide down her throat.”
The firemen exchanged glances then looked at me. Mom and I looked at each other then back at them. I guess they were expecting me to elaborate, but that’s all I had.
The Captain spoke directly to my mother, “Ma’am are you OK?”
She smiled and nodded. I got the feeling she was enjoying the attention.
“Do you have the other trach?”
“Yes,” I said pointing to a box out of my reach.
Another fireman pulled a tracheostomy out of the box and handed it to the Captain.
“So what do you need me to do?” the Captain asked.
“Um… put it in?” I replied.
He shoved the package at me, “Oh, I can’t do that.”
I pushed it back, “Of course you can.”
“No. I can’t.”
Mom’s eyes followed the box like a tennis match.
“You’re the fireman.” I reminded him.
“I don’t know anything about trachs. Are you her caregiver?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you know more than we do.”
Clearly,” I said, indicating the situation, “I’m not qualified.”
“We can take her to the emergency room. You can ride along and hold the tube.”
I was petrified of making the situation worse, but felt backed into a corner. I screwed it up so I had to fix it. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
The captain put on gloves, asking “What do you need me to do?”
“When I pull this tube out, you to poke your finger in the hole and…”
“How about if I just hold the tube?” He said, cutting me off with a smile.
I nervously joked in return, “Fine, ya big chicken, I’ll do the hard part.”
I shifted to the other side so he could hold the tube.
“Take it out slowly,” I said as the other firemen crowded around to get a better look. My hands shook but I was able to work the sides of the hole and ease the skin out along with it.
“Okay… um… hold the skin back.” I mentally said a quick prayer: Please dear God, don’t let me fuck this up; then asked Mom, “You ready?”
If she was scared she didn’t show it. I tried to be as brave as she was, but my trembling hands gave me away. Slowly, I slid the curved end of the trach into the hole and down her throat. When I felt it was all the way in, I held up my hands, stepped back, and asked Mom, “Does that feel OK?”
The entire room exhaled with relief as Mom answered, “You did good.”
Later when the house was quiet. I sat by my mother’s bed. I could see she was tired. We both were. She looked into my eyes and I couldn’t hold back the tears as I whispered, “I am so sorry.”
I covered my face with my hands and pressed my forehead to the edge of her bed. Then I felt her hand gently rubbing the top of my head, telling me everything was OK. It was a lie, of course. Nothing was OK. She was dying and we both knew it. But no matter how sick she was, or what little time she had left, she was still the mother and I was the daughter that needed comforting.
Jonna Ivin Bio: Jonna Ivin is the author of the crime thriller 8th Amendment and Will Love For Crumbs – A Memoir
***
Sonia Marsh Says: You have a skill at injecting humor into a dramatic situation and made me smile several times, even when you said, “Oh Dear Lord, I’ve just killed my mother.” I also felt all the emotions you must have gone through while trying to help your mother “breathe” again.
Please leave your comments for Jonna below and she will be over to respond.
***
Sonia Marsh is on her virtual blog tour this month.
You can check out all the interviews here, and today I’m so happy to be a guest on Kathy Pooler’s blog. Check out our Google Hangout interview together: “Making your memoir read like a movie.”
Do you have a “My Gutsy Story” you’d like to share?
To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.
What an incredible story! I loved how you made me laugh and cry at the same time. Your story made me think of my mom.
Thank you for sharing your “gutsy story” as it encourages me to consider stepping up in my life.
Amazing story. The highs and the lows were beautifully written. I can’t imagine doing what you did, but then again we never really know what we can do until we have to.
b
barbara recently posted..My Objection to Home Schooling and Five Arguments Against It
Oh – this was so moving and had me in tears.
Lady Fi recently posted..Talking leaves
A truly gutsy story. Loved the vivid writing, humor, and tension. Great ending.
You’ve done a masterful job, Jonna, weaving in the light and dark moments in this gripping and gutsy story. The nurse in me felt a lot of empathy for the task at hand but you truly conveyed gutsiness in doing what you needed to do to help your mother. And yes, I breathed a sigh of relief at the end. Great job!
Kathleen Pooler recently posted..An Interview with Sonia Marsh: Making Your Memoir Read Like a Movie
I sure wish you had been there Kathleen! 🙂 Actually, I’m pretty sure my mom and the firemen would have appreciated that as well!
Jonna, once again you’ve written with truth, emotion, and humor. The tension was palpable and broken by your wit in such a way that I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh with you and your mom. Courageous, brave and yes, ma’am, you’re gutsy!
Sherrey Meyer recently posted..Why Do You Write? (Part 1)
Thank you everyone for the kind words and for reading my story. I really appreciate your comments.
OMG Jonna! I was with you every step of the way during this experience with your mother, even to saying my fav curse word throughout your ordeal. Reading about your experience brought back memories of my own, with my mother. You expressed yourself in a way that engaged my fears yet tempered them with humor…a most wonderful gift. Thank you.
Doreen Cox recently posted..LOVE NEVER DIES
Thank you Doreen. Outside of the fear, the absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on me even while it was happening.
Wow. The tension. Can I breathe now?
Teresa Cleveland Wendel recently posted..Identity Crisis
One of those nightmare events that you can’t prepare for. Gives me the shivers reading about it!
Miss Footloose | Life in the Expat Lane recently posted..Expat Trouble: Barefoot and Phone-less
Yikes Jonna! I was gasping for breath myself as I read that story! I was so mad that the hospital sent you home with your mother and only explained how to replace the tube! I don’t think they should release a patient without actually having the caregiver DEMONSTRATE that they know the procedure. I’m glad you kept you cool, somewhat! :>)
Yes Tom, it still boggles my mind that hospitals will release people in the condition that they do. Not only did my mother have a trach but also a feeding tube, oxygen tank and this “suction tube thing” that I had to slide down her trach to suction the mucus out of her lungs. It was ridiculous to think that I was remotely qualified in any way to be her primary care giver.
Two days after my mother passed the hospital had Hospice Care call to see when I wanted them to set up an appointment for someone to come to the house and help me. My response: “You’re a little late.”
You’re a brave woman, Jonna, taking on so much responsibity, caring for your mother. Your mother is truly blest to have a daughter like you.
I found this funny and yet so touching and real. I liked the tension with the Fire Dept. The ending was filled with tenderness and made me cry…great essay.
What a remarkable story! Kudos to your bravery, humor, and love.