Again I apologise if there are mistakes on this post or it does not make any sense, I feeling like ramblings and how can you ramble and correct mistakes?
I’ve been meaning to blog for a couple day now, and I have been trying to put it off because I now know that people who actually know me in real life read this, and its so embarrassing, having people who I choose to have a brave face in front of, seeing how broken and messed up I am. I feel to bury myself far into the depths of the earth and never come out.
My anonymous space to be true to myself is now a known blog of a mad woman.
Last week I had a meeting with the panel members who all had a hand in writing the serious incident investigation report I received some weeks ago. I was so scared going into the meeting, my heart was beating ten times faster than normal, I felt sick and faint, overall totally unpleasant. The impersonal response I got in the report was so overwhelming I couldn’t even read it all, it was so cold, so detached. Going in I couldn’t bear the thought of being face to face with the exact people that could turn my tragedy into an emotionless stack of paper. However 10 minutes into the meeting it was the first time since my sons passing I felt anger, real pure anger towards the ‘professionals’ that I went to countlessly with my sick child however it was in their ‘professional opinion’ that he wasn’t sick enough to warrant a stay in hospital for further tests or a simple blood test. While these ‘professionals’ were blabbing on trying to cover the mistakes made by others, all I could see was red, I just wanted them to shut their mouths, for the first time since I’ve been having these meetings I actually spoke up for myself, tears streaming down my face because the anger was just consuming me, shouting at these people that are trying to take me as a mug. If I wasn’t in the amount of internal pain I was feeling in that moment I could say shouting at them was so liberating. I’d finally given everyone a glimpse as to how I was feeling inside. And to be frank, I think they were scared, scared not because they were afraid I would do something to them, but because they could see that even if it took every ounce of strength, skin, blood and bones on my body, I will go through with this case as far as it will take me.
Nearly two hours later, my tear ducts dried out, the anger slowly draining out of my pores, the meeting had finished. To me it was pointless, all these things they are going to change within the hospital when it comes to the care of children etc, it doesn’t mean anything to me, I haven’t got another child, having another child seems so alien to me, changing the rules now, now that because of their stupid rules and procedures my son is dead, now you want to change them. It doesn’t mean a thing to me.
After coming out of the meeting, we sat in the waiting area, my family talking with my lawyer, me sitting there too drained to even swallow my spit, a child about the same age my son was came into the waiting room with his dad and sat behind me. That child then starting singing nursery rhymes as they do at that age, oblivious to the horrors of this world.
I went limp.
I was like every bone in my body turned to mush and my insides were trying to come out. Then came the wails of a childless mother.
My family had to carry me to the car and for the rest of the week I stayed in bed, in and out of reality.
Just as I start to think I’ve started the healing phase of my grief, starting to accept that fact that I’m a mother without a child. I’m pushed five feet back from where I started. When I really think about it this is literally just the beginning. The actual inquest is months away, and after that, taking it to civil court, that whole process could take from months to years depending on whatever they throw at us.
When exactly am I suppose to heal?
Or better yet, how?
When can I get my calm before the storm?
joycesmemoirs 