As I’m talking to mom this morning she mentions, as she usually does, an article from today’s newspaper. She says she felt bad for this guy who, like her, had been in a bad accident and had to learn to walk again. But that’s where their similarity ends, sort of. He is going through a divorce/custody battle, getting back to work and he’s a Lions fan. He’s no doubt been through a lot and I could see why mom would relate to him.

But during the Saints/Lions game a few weeks ago, he became frustrated by the game, called to get the phone number of the Superdome and then called in two bomb threats. This was the point where I said, enough, I have no sympathy for this guy and told my mom that she had been through even more than he has and so if she called in threats I wouldn’t bail her out. I know she wouldn’t do something like that but she also knows I wasn’t kidding.

I’m big on accountability. Excuses for me are usually a sign that someone just didn’t bother to try the first time. Trying and failing is fine. But just not being responsible for your own actions. Not so much.

As we were talking though, the similarity between their accident recoveries, as well as a couple of other friends I know, made me thing about something. In all of the cases, the people got good medical treatment and physical rehabilitation but all still suffer. I’m not formally diagnosing them but I can see layman-termed anger management, social anxiety and depression symptoms in all of their stories. Perhaps someone would say it is PTSD-like symptoms. Again I’m not a clinician, just an observer.

But it does seem that there is a big piece of recovery missing for people who go through serious injuries or health problems. I don’t know about the guy in the newspaper but I do know in my experience with my mother I begged for psychological help when she was hospitalized and couldn’t get it for her. As she fought with the PT, OT and nurses I kept trying to intervene. I told them of specific triggers like when the anniversary of my dad’s death was coming. I kept asking if there was someone she could talk to.

I feel that I failed her in some ways. The most I could get them to budge was to give her an anti-depressant and an anti-anxiety drug. These masks some of the symptoms a bit, but certainly didn’t help in the long run. By the time I found an out-patient OT who offered to help me find a mental health professional, it was too late and we couldn’t get mom to go.

Now that’s on mom. She’s been offered help and refused. But then when she was hospitalized a second time, I gave it the old college try again. This time, mom was 1000 times more cooperative with her physical recovery but I still talked with the case manager about the fact that she would be resistant to having the ongoing PT and OT professionals coming into the house. Again the answer was, here’s a pill.

So this morning mom and I talked about it and once again she apologized for the way she treats me at times. All of her inner rage and frustration pour out at times at me. Countless conversations have ended with her saying “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself.” And countless apologies have tried to balance out the outbursts. I’ll admit I bite back sometimes. No one wants to be yelled at but I take responsibility for my part. And I suppose I have a little bit of the insanity since I keep trying (although not always by doing the same thing over and over).

I won’t give up and when I hung up the phone today I think I made it clear that it’s not the being mad at me part that is the worst, it’s the watching her beat herself up that is most painful. I don’t know that she’ll be any more receptive to help but we’ll see. I still won’t bail her out. :) And I won’t make excuses for her behavior, but I will advocate for her and anyone else to try get them as much help recovering emotionally and mentally as they do physically and occupationally.