I am back east again.
I arrived on Saturday. Mummy was sleeping when I got to the house, but I snuck in to say hello and she woke up and chatted with me for a while. She lights up when one of her children walks in the room. All the time. Not just after a long absence, but after a trip to the grocery store, or the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
You'll walk by the doorway to the sun room when you are feeding the dog or taking out the recycling and if you catch her eye, she will wave at you and smile.
She isn't eating enough. I try to bring her a little something every few hours, but the chemo has left her with the sense that everything tastes metallic, so I am trying to find things that minimize that sensation.
She has lost so much weight that she looks like she has aged ten years since I left a few weeks ago. She looks more and more like my grandfather every day. Today, she wore a deep red turtleneck. He used to wear turtlenecks all of the time (after his bow-tie years).
I am watching her live and die at the same time.
Sunday, Aunt Jane and Uncle John came by with some chicken. Elly came by and gave mom communion. It was a quiet day. Mom was tired. But the weather was beautiful. It was a gorgeous day.
Things are already a blur here. She asks me what day it is and sometimes I don't remember.
Today, I cried a few times. Once in the car (on the way to chemo) when she was saying how much Uncle Jude loves us.
My Uncle Jude is a gift. He fills the voids that my father left in my life.
And my thoughts went to the fact that I never thought I would have him to get us through this. And I cried because I am lucky that he will be here with his shoulder when we need a really good cry when this is all over.
But then I got my head back into today.
Mummy is still fighting very hard. She was amazing today when they were trying to do her bloodwork and they couldn't find a vein. She told the phlebotomist not to worry, that she was doing fine. And she made sure to thank her for doing such a great job before I wheeled her out.
Maura came along to the chemotherapy today. We have to keep the car so warm for mom, that Maura and I were pretty uncomfortable in the stifling heat. Maura made it up the elevator to the oncologist's floor and promptly threw up in the water fountain. A barrel of laughs, the women in our family.
The people who are caring for mom seem to develop a special affection for her. When I wheeled her out today, a few of them made a point to pop their heads out of the back office to say good-bye. She is managing all of this with a quiet grace that reminds me of her mother. GoGo was grace personified.
She got through the chemo like a champ. She read the post and did the sudoku puzzle. She does get a little confused sometimes and that frustrates her. She asks the same things over and over and I just repeat the answer to her as if she were asking for the first time.
That, it seems, is more a side effect of the chemo than of the cancer that has shown up in a spot on her brain. She is still quick witted. She is just a little forgetful.
We came home and she sat in the family room for a while while I changed her bedding and straightened her room. She has no patience for clutter right now. It really bothers her. She even had Maura take all of the magnets off of the fridge. When I came into the family room, she was wheeling herself around in the room, dusting. She is desperate to feel useful again.
This evening, after a visit from Aunt Jane, mom was curled up on her side watching the Grinch.
We love the Grinch.
Maura put mom's 8' tall inflatible Grinch out in the yard today. For years, mom used to buy treats (Walker's shortbread cookies and Martinelli's sparkling cider) and leave them on the porch for the boys across the street with a note "Merry Christmas. From the Grinch."I climbed in the bed behind mom and spooned with her and watched the Grinch with her. Mostly, I just smelled her hair and felt her breathe and felt her hand on mine.
And I cried a tiny bit. Just a few tears. Not enough that she could tell, because me-feeling-bad will only make her feel worse.
I tried to commit every sense to memory.
Watching her live and die at the same time is bizarre. It is not horrifying, because the living part is so sweet.
It is truly an amazing gift.
She is still very much alive and love is coming from her like rays from the sun. And I am soaking up as much as I can.
