I sat here for a minute or two trying to think of a catchy title for this blog post. I got nothing. It's been THE longest and shortest three days ever. Mom is still with us and hanging on. I would say at this point 98% of her day is spent unresponsive. Laying peacefully in her hospital bed in her living room surrounded by her possessions, the love and prayers of family and friends. Most of her day and night her face is peaceful, calm, serene, free of worry lines. Coming faster and closer in between are the bouts of pain that pop up through the morphine. She has her own subtle way of telling us she is hurting. Scrunching up her forehead and creasing her eyebrows. We can get her to shake her head yes or no most times to tell us whether or not she is in pain. there are times during the day that her eyes will pop open as much as she can get them open, catch a glance of me or her sister or her hubby, and she cracks a smile. Makes it all worth it. Every bedside moment, every smile I catch, every eye opening event puts me a little more at peace. I don't have time to write an enormous blog post about each and every experience we have had in the last three days, because, well, I would be here forever. Mom doesn't have forever. She's not even guaranteed tonight. So I won't waste a lot of my time babbling about her pain and pressure wounds and blisters and bed sores. They're all there. They suck. She doesn't even realize she has them. I'm good with that.
As the hours pass, I reminisce about every waking moment I have had with her. Like the time where she whooped my tail for acting sick and trying to vomit because I did NOT want to go in the deep end during swimming lessons. I remember the times that she took me camping. Fishing. She sat in the stands at my ball games. She was present for the birth of each and every child of mine. I remember when she was diagnosed. I remember the pain I felt then, but it pales in comparison to right now.
I will leave it at that, and go back to be with her. She needs me and I need her and I will do everything in my power to ease her transition into Heaven. I have told her it was o.k. to go. Most difficult thing I have EVER done in my entire 39 years. I will give more updates when time allows.
My heart aches for all of you. I too have been thinking about memories of all of us; camping, parties with our parents at your house or mine, her letting us take her car to cruise Court, fishing, bowling, graduation party together, etc. I will have to admit, it seems surreal, even as I've watched her get sicker. Maybe I just don't want to come to grips with it all. Wait, I know I don't! When I saw & sat with her on Thursday, I was comforted since she knew who I was, she opened her eyes and told me that she loved me. That is more than what I could ask for. I'm glad that you have family around you to help you through this tough time, Michelle. Know that I love you and am here for you.
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