So within the next few days, my brother, sister, aunt, and I all came to NY and had a "one last try" intervention. My mom was so weak, she really couldn't put up much of a fight.
My aunt (my mom's good friend) said something that stuck with me: "Why are you punishing yourself like this? The divorce was not your fault". It hit my mom too. I hadn't thought of it, but it was like my mom felt like she deserved feeling this bad. And it took her friend, not her children, to recognize this and say it to my mom.
My mom wobbled into the car, covered in shit stains, and was actually kind of stoic. I didn't know what to expect. Would she make us turn around? Would she storm out of the hospital? Would she die of a heart attach on the way there?
I have to say, the most helpful thing was having my aunt there. She used to be a doctor and actually worked at the hospital we took my mom to. She pulled strings, knew what to ask for, and even pulled a bitchy male resident aside to scold him when he rolled his eyes at my mom and judged her when we told him she was an alcoholic. If you can find someone or know someone who knows their way around a hospital, the whole process is much smoother. And it soothed my mom knowing that my aunt was there, taking care of business, kicking ass on her behalf.
Oh wait...this post was entitles "long short"...oh well. So, it took 8 hours to have my mom admitted to a room (for physical reasons). I can't even tell you the relief I felt knowing she was in the hospital, being taken care of, knowing she wasn't going to die that night on the couch as home. I wept the whole way home.
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