5pm: Soccer game!! Must be at stadium at 3.45pm, Alison will pick me up at 3.15pm!
Today, my mother was in a car crash down the northern hwy. I was angry at her for not being there before the game. To wish me luck. I was angry at her, for not beginning there to take my photo in the stupid lycra uniform. I was angry at her. And now she’s on cardiopulmonary bypass, having blood and oxygen pumped into her body because her heart has been displaced from the left side of her chest to the right.
They cannot save her. Her internal injuries are too extensive. Her pulmonary vein has been torn, which means she’s bleeding out - into her lungs. Her lungs have collapsed as well. She’s broken several of her left ribs. I don’t need to go on any further. There’s no repairing her.
She’s reminded me of my one and only doll - Molly. I had her for a year or so. She was my favourite toy. One day her head came off. We tried to put her back together. But there was no way to fix her. She was beyond repair. She had to go. She was my only dolly. There was no replacing her. She was gone for good. I wanted her more and more every day. I missed her, more and more every minute. I didn’t want a new one. I didn’t want the brand new Barbie set, with the house and car. I wanted Molly. But she never came back.
Derik and Debbie are discussing taking her off life support. The doctors say there is nothing they can do for her. I didn’t want her to be alone, so I remain here. Listening. I feel so stupid. It’s the last few moments of her life and I’m sitting on the other side of the room facing the wall writing in my diary. I cannot look at her. She looks so broken. I can’t comfort her. She must be in so much pain. I know I’m going to regret this but I can’t seem to find away to face her and acknowledge that gurgling breath I hear, are her last few. That this moment is going to be the last moment I have with my mother. I could say anything too her, tell her about all the times I snuck out or apologize for all the nasty thing I said – for being angry...
It’s my fault she’s like this. I shouldn’t have pressure her to see me play, I only got fourteen minutes on the field. I got called off by my coach – Ian. I was already angry at mum for not being there – so I was feeling pretty angry that I didn’t even get the first fifteen minutes on the field. I don’t think I’ll ever forget those few word’s he said or the look on his face. “Jovianne” He took a deep breath. “Your mother has been in a car crash, she’s not okay. Alison will take you to the hospital.”
It seemed like everyone already knew, I could feel all eyes on me. I glanced at Alison and she nodded. I grabbed my gear, and thought of every possible thing that could have happened to her. Having her heart displaced from the left side to the right never crossed my mind during the dreading. The thought of her actually leaving me for good, never seemed to be a possibility – a real scenario. The thought of her never being around in the future...
It’s funny how the adrenaline from that game was nothing, I mean nothing compared to the adrenaline of fear in that car ride. And it’s funny how I thought I was running my hardest in that game, but I don’t think I was moving so quickly in my life when entering that hospital. But the funniest thing of all was the fact that even though that may have been the fastest moving in my life it still wasn’t quick enough. I needed to stop time.
When walking through that door, I felt a part of me die. A really big part of me die inside. Seeing my mum like this. It’s inhuman. Every bit of her is bruised. Blood everywhere; it seemed to have spread throughout the room. Needles and tubes sticking out from all over her body. I can’t make up my mind. About what the worst part is... the gurgling of breaths because her lungs are full of blood or the waxy white skin which makes my mother look like a complete stranger.
I couldn’t help think what did she do to deserve this? This is so unfair! I believe in Karma and my mum does not deserve this. Me perhaps, but not my mum. I mean I’ve always been unlucky, but couldn’t my luck focus on me a little bit more?
Or maybe this was worse. Yes, this is definitely worse. I feel like screaming at her for some unjustified reason. I feel like screaming in general. “WHAT ABOUT ME? What about me, mum? What about me when you leave me? When you go to the light? You can fix everything? Well fix this for me! Because you’ll be ok when you go to the light, you’ll be fine. But what about me? Because I won’t! Because you’re the only one I’ve got. You’re the only one and I can’t face this world without you. Who’s going to watch out for me now? I love you mum, please, please just don’t leave me yet... I need you! I won’t be fine if you leave me. I can’t do this! Mum please mum, please don’t leave me because if you die, I’ll never forgive you. You’re all I’ve got! You’re all I’ve got!”
But I can’t say that, not only is that incredibly selfish but I want to say the right things “I love you, and I want you to know...” and talk about all the great times we had together. But I can’t. I can’t think about all the great times we had together. I can’t think. My body’s in shock. Serious, numb, disbelief. Someone could have hit me several times over and I don’t think I would have notice.
When the nurse came in to inject more morphine I wanted to ask “Doesn’t this belong on television?” or say “Ok April’s fools is on the 1st not the 17th, acts over!” but I can’t even speak.
I think I might go hold her hand, stroke her hair – tell her everything’s alright and that I love her.
Time of death – 11.32pm