Un trago amargo | 5 minute FreeWrite
Unsplash, Brian Jones , Unsplash, @t_ahmetler and edited by my son
SPANISH VERSION
Vengo de una familia numerosa donde se nos enseñó a tomar decisiones y a actuar. Quizás por ser la única hembra entre 7 hermanos varones y mi disposición de cumplir con lo que mis padres demandaban de mí como hija, quizás generó que colocaran mayor responsabilidad sobre mis hombros… No lo sé realmente, pero hubo una temporada donde se me delegaban tareas que en un principio me hacían sentir útil, necesaria y llegue a pensar que las cosas no funcionarían si yo no estoy, una gran equivocación que pude comprobar tiempo después.
Hasta que nació mi hijo, entonces toda aquella autoridad delegada que me agradaba se empezó a convertir en una carga muy pesada.
Sumado a esto, mi madre se enferma y entre exámenes y exámenes, tratamientos fallidos, emiten un diagnóstico, sus riñones ya no funcionan en su totalidad, solo en un porcentaje mínimo, lo que ameritaba diálisis hasta su último día. Me negué rotundamente a aceptarlo, sentía un terror tan profundo.
Busque otras opiniones tres en total, todas daban el mismo resultado, decían: es la única forma de ayudarla de lo contrario se ahogara en sus propias toxinas. No había otra opción, se debía tomar una decisión de inmediato, consideré que no podía tomar esa decisión sola, la ansiedad me mataba, no sabía cómo dar la noticia.
Recordando el día que presente mi tesis, que me tome un trago de un licor fuerte para adormecer los nervios. Opte por hacer lo mismo para poder reunir a mi padre y hermanos para presentarles todas las evidencias de su diagnóstico y luego concertar una cita con el nefrólogo para que oyeran de sus propios labios lo que teníamos como única opción, aquel trago efectivamente me calmo los nervios, pero después me sentí culpable porque el sabor en mi boca era más amargo que ese licor fuerte. Tanto que quería vomitar y llorar, es un sentimiento devastador.
Una vez informados tomamos la decisión, mi hermano dijo: Este es el principio del fin y así fue. A los pocos meses mi mamá muere producto, no de la enfermedad, sino de un exceso de heparina, medicamento que suministran para diluir la sangre, en resumen negligencia médica. En medio del suceso, se le produjo un derrame, y mientras trataban de parar la sangre la infectaron con una bacteria, luego un accidente cerebro vascular, metástasis y el fin.
Quería tomar aquella botella de licor fuerte, hasta dormir y no sentir, pero algo me lo impidió y enfrente mi realidad, lleve mi luto, tardé para sanar mi corazón, porque no esperaba que pasara así. Aprendí a que es mejor enfrentar las cosas aunque te conviertas en una gelatina, ser valiente para no sucumbir a lo que pudiera ser una adicción incontrolable. Aunque siendo sincera esas pequeñas porciones de licor ayudaron en su momento.
ENGLISH VERSION
I come from a large family where we were taught to make decisions and to act. Perhaps being the only female among 7 male siblings and my willingness to comply with what my parents demanded of me as a daughter, perhaps generated that they placed more responsibility on my shoulders... I do not really know, but there was a time when I was delegated tasks that at first made me feel useful, necessary and I came to think that things would not work if I am not there, a big mistake that I could prove some time later.
Until my son was born, then all that delegated authority that I liked began to become a very heavy burden.
In addition to this, my mother got sick and between tests and tests, failed treatments, they issued a diagnosis, her kidneys no longer worked in its entirety, only in a minimum percentage, which warranted dialysis until her last day. I flatly refused to accept it, I felt such deep terror.
I sought other opinions, three in total, all gave the same result, they said: it is the only way to help her, otherwise she will drown in her own toxins. There was no other option, a decision had to be made immediately, I considered that I could not make that decision alone, anxiety was killing me, I did not know how to break the news.
Remembering the day I presented my thesis, I drank a shot of hard liquor to numb my nerves. I opted to do the same in order to gather my father and siblings to present them with all the evidences of their diagnosis and then make an appointment with the nephrologist so they could hear from his own lips what we had as the only option, that drink effectively calmed my nerves, but then I felt guilty because the taste in my mouth was more bitter than that hard liquor. So much so that I wanted to vomit and cry, it is a devastating feeling.
Once informed we made the decision, my brother said: This is the beginning of the end and so it was. A few months later my mother died, not from the disease, but from an excess of heparin, a medicine given to thin the blood, in short, medical negligence. In the middle of the event, she had a stroke, and while they were trying to stop the blood they infected her with a bacterium, then a stroke, metastasis and the end.
I wanted to drink that bottle of hard liquor, to sleep and not feel, but something prevented me and I faced my reality, I took my mourning, it took me a while to heal my heart, because I did not expect it to happen like this. I learned that it is better to face things even if you turn into a jelly, to be brave not to succumb to what could be an uncontrollable addiction. Although to be honest those small portions of liquor helped at the time.
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