Lessons From My Mother’s ICU Experience: A Personal Reflection

My mother was my closest confidante. She was the person I turned to with news, both good and bad, and with daily conversations. She supported me through everything in life. As she grew older, I became determined to support her as she had supported me. We discussed how she’d want situations handled if she ever needed medical assistance, but life proved more complicated than any discussions.

One night after picking up my son from his high school homecoming, my phone rang. It was not my mom but rather my husband informing me she was heading to the ER. This marked the start of an intense hospital experience. My mother underwent what her cardiothoracic surgeon called “the worst surgery a human can have.” Her main artery, the aorta, had ruptured. Despite surviving a grueling seven-hour surgery, her body was badly affected. The surgery led to a burst carotid artery, a heart attack, and a stroke.

She was connected to multiple machines, keeping her alive on life support. Trapped in a state between life and machine, her small movements brought brief hope. When I told her it was okay to let go, a tear fell from her eye. The neurologist confirmed she had emerged from the coma, fueling optimism. But as days passed with no improvement, doctors advised patience.

As her fingers began to turn blue, I finally asked her caregivers about the right time to let her go. They told me her chances of recovering fully were slim. Together with my father, I faced the painful decision to remove life support. Watching the medical equipment being removed restored a semblance of her original self; she was free. She lived unsupported for an hour before passing peacefully.

Years later, I still replay those ICU moments, filled with emotions and lack of comprehensive advice. I question if I prolonged her suffering by delaying decisive action. As the anniversary of her passing nears, I remind myself not to dwell on guilt. Instead, I focus on preparing my son for any future medical decisions concerning me. I shared with him the lessons learned from my mother’s passing, ensuring he wouldn’t face guilt as I did.

I told him to make decisions based on love and available information, reassuring him I trusted him and harbored no regrets about his decisions. His response, “Thanks, Mom,” filled me with peace. I had given him the assurance that I never received during my own ordeal.

Tara McClellan McAndrew is a writer in the Midwest. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own. Interested in sharing your personal essay with Newsweek? Contact [email protected].