A Mother’s Angst
I was looking for a photo of Mum and I to go with what I’m posting today and strangely enough I actually struggled to find one of both of us together. This could be partly because of the difficulty she’s had with me over the years when trying to get a reluctant teenager to smile for a photograph but that doesn’t mean we haven’t had our moments together. In fact she’s been present at almost every step of my journey, especially post attack whether that be on the night itself, the time in hospital, my first day at physio, all the way up to my first time back in the water (pictured above).
I think the reason I struggled to find a photograph was actually because more often than not, she was on the other side of the camera. She was there being a proud and supportive parent which is not easy to do when one of your children is going through something completely life changing but she showed up time and time again to help in every possible way she could.
I recently got Mum to write a few words as a bit of a reflection of her experience which is a perspective that I think a lot of people will find both emotional and insightful. I am certainly glad she did everything she could to be there and support me through my toughest days and always hope to do her proud with everything I set out to achieve in life. Thanks for everything Mum.
Gail Connellan - A Mother’s Angst
There is nothing more terrifying than seeing your own child near death, knowing that you cannot do anything. Instead, you can only live on hope, placing faith in everyone around you as they work frantically yet calmly to do everything they can to save your child’s life. This was my experience when I arrived at Bombo beach that day after being told that Brett had been attacked by a shark.
Upon arriving at the beach we were approached by emergency workers, some whom where friends. The look on their faces was unforgettable, a distinct look of sorrow. The whole experience was surreal, everything was eerily calm as the ambulance team worked on the tourniquet. Brett was conscious and quite lucid at the time which gave me hope and he was clearly staying as calm as he could which I think set the scene for everyone around him. Being close to him was comforting however, the time came when he needed to be airlifted to hospital which was so unsettling as I was not sure if this last moment with him will be the last forever.
This was the beginning of settling into a new realm of living on pure hope. There was again, absolutely nothing I could do, only wait. I cried in my sleep too many times and never stopped worrying about Bretts future. It’s a complete feeling of helplessness where you have absolutely no control. Anyone who knows me is acutely aware that I prefer to be in control.
The meetings with the surgeon were empathetic yet to the point. Amputation of the legit self or removal of the latissimus dorsi muscle and transplanting it into the leg were the only two options. I didn’t know anything about the function of the latissimus dorsi muscle up until that point.
After the operation we were told that he may walk unaided but it’s unlikely. We had to be prepared for the worst. In all honesty the surgeon did not know what the outcome would be, he just knew that he had to give Brett the best chance to at least walk again. Nothing prepares you for this but, in true Mum mode I decided that it doesn’t matter. He still has his leg and he has the strong support of his family.
The recovery felt much slower for Brett than for the rest of the family. I was impressed with his progress particularly after he started Physio which was pivotal for Brett and gave him the drive to push harder and harder. I am also forever grateful for friends and for our small close-knit community who just encircled our family and gave us all so much love and support.
As a mother you love, protect and cherish your children and that never ceases. A mother’s angst is heightened through a traumatic experience. I think the following quote by Jennifer Quinn sums it up for me. “Until one becomes a mother, no one can ever tell you what it will feel like to love someone else so deeply and profoundly that you will rejoice when they rejoice, ache when they ache, feel what they feel – even without ever speaking a word”