One of DrB’s favorite sayings goes like this, “The rear view mirror is small and the windshield is big because you are suppose to focus on what is ahead of you while being reminded and learn from what you left behind.”

For the most part I can see the logic in that, however I see a reversal in the perspective. Recent events have led me to believe that the window to what lies ahead is very small. It is really like looking through the peephole and trying to determine what lies outside.  Looking back through the rearview mirror you see how decisions you make were not always the best for all concerned.

My mother had been living in a nursing home for the past several years, her days were filled with greeting people in the lobby and spreading joy among the staff.  In all reality her health was better than it had been in years.  She spent time around other people, she got more exercise because she walked the halls and she definitely ate healthier.  Her short-term memory was shot, but she knew us all and she was still a bit of a flirt and had that impish sense of humor.

A few months ago my mother had a clogged artery in her leg.  The doctor called me with this grim news and indicated considering her age there was likely nothing that could be done.  When he described to me how she would pass I nearly lost it.  As a small glimmer of hope he indicated that he had placed a call to a specialist and as soon as he heard something he would call.  That was 10AM, I heard nothing until midnight when a surgeon in the neighboring town called to give me his assessment.  He would do the surgery, there could be many roadblocks along the way, she might not get blood flow restored to her lower leg and she might not survive the surgery.  I felt like I was looking through that peephole in the door but I wanted to give her a chance.  I believed she had so much still to give.

The procedure was a complete success, blood flow was restored all the way to her foot.  Within a few days after the surgery she was her mischievous self, flirting with the male nurses, and eating well.  Physical therapy had been in and stood her on her feet.  I was hopeful for her full recovery.  That was October, this is April.  Six months later I am looking into the rearview mirror and questioning my decision.

My mother has not walked since the surgery.  In addition her memory short and long term have declined, she cannot recall words and struggles to get her thoughts out.  She will mimic and repeat what I say but struggles to find her own words.  She recently became a Great-great-grandmother but she doesn’t comprehend that amazing fact.  She will ask “Who?” and I tell her but she doesn’t really remember her great-granddaughter visiting, she doesn’t even remember her grandson. 

It breaks my heart to see her in the convalescent recliners wheeled out into the common area in  front of everyone.  I know she would not want this!  She would not want to present herself to the world (albeit her small world) like this.  She never wanted people to know she could not manage and take care of herself, pride maybe, but she was always a very private person keeping her failings to herself was a form of maintaining her dignity.

Was this a false hope on my part? Should have let her go?  The day after the surgery she asked my sister, “Why didn’t you let me die?”  I ask myself that now.  When I see her now, my heart breaks.  She would not have wanted this to be the way she lived her final days.  She would not want to live like this, I would not want to live like this.

If I could only have seen then, what I see now,  looking into the rearview mirror.  I was looking through a peephole, it would have been nice to have a full view through the windshield but that is not the way life works. Decisions are based on your best hopes for a positive outcome and looking behind does often give you an opportunity to learn.

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