~ morning hair, morning light, morning dress ~

Hi kiddo,

Oh, to be where you are in the Christmas shopping department! I've barely even thought about it so far. And there isn't much time left.

We have been actively looking for a new place closer to Mom and Dad's. Mom wants me nearer in the worst way, and our deck and driveway are just too frigging risky for Emil. We've really seen that in the past week, once it snowed up here. So Scott has been calling ads and we've been to see several places. Now that he's taking his mission seriously I have no doubt we'll be moving before long.

I appreciate the thought, sweetie, but it is impossible to comfort me, really, in this instance. The only thing that seems to help when I am in a bad way is to tune in to Mom, as I would when I do a tarot reading. That calms me and even helps me sleep. I think it's because I then feel she is a little less alone in this. I don't know. Maybe it's because she is more okay with what is happening than I am. As she says, it's probably worse for us than for her. That may well be, though I find it hard to believe. She has to have some rough emotional moments, aside from the pain.

Jordan has been here since 7:30 this morning. Joan has gone up to Big White to go snowboarding. So it's cartoons on TV behind me, after she and Emil watched a Barney video.

Well, I must shower, dress, eat, and get to work. Didn't do anything yesterday. Mom called before 9, in enough pain to be desperate for help. The nurse hadn't gotten there quickly enough with the pain medication. Mom had called Dad to go buy her a light blanket because the hospital ones were too heavy and added to her discomfort. And would I come and rub her feet? So we rushed down there, walked into her room ahead of her doctor and Dad. As soon as Doc asked her how she was, she threw up her breakfast. This is common with her; definitely a mind thing. We took off the heavy blankets and put on the new one, I rubbed her feet, and she kicked us out so she could sleep.

Before leaving the hospital we stood in a corridor and talked with Dad. He said the spot on Mom's liver has grown continually since the beginning and is quite large. He is not hopeful for her long survival; we are in for some serious shit, he thinks, and has prepared himself for the worst. I suppose he's trying to prepare the rest of us too.

After that he went his way and we went ours, to a restaurant for breakfast. I was not in a very good mood, and spent the afternoon feeling tired and as if coming down with a cold, so I didn't get any work done, just rested. Fortunately I did not get sick, so I can still spend time with Mom. We had a wonderful visit together last night. She has a lot on her mind.

Her remarks:

"I don't want to talk about cancer again till after Christmas. I am tired of talking about it. I'd just like to feel good for a few weeks, enough to enjoy Christmas. I've talked about cancer too much."

"I don't like it when people -- even you girls -- tell me 'We'll get through this' and 'We'll beat this thing.' We have to accept that this is going to kill me. We have to accept it. That's the way it's likely going to end."

"You're a very good mother. All three of you girls are."

"I'm proud of you." I'd just told her about some writing I'm doing, and she was excited about it being "published."

And now I really must away.

Keep on writing, I love getting your emails.

xoxo
Kathy