~ phony kitty beloved by all ~

Thursday, Feb. 17, 2005
9:22 a.m.

Grandpa's birthday today. Wonder if Mom will think of that. She probably doesn't know the actual date. I'll remind her when I go to the hospital this morning.

I am past the point of fearing that each time Mom goes into the hospital it is the end, but still stuck smack-dab in the middle of the angst that is but they said they could keep her comfortable, so why aren't they doing it?

Yesterday I sat by her bed as she tried to distract herself from the pain by listening on headphones to talk radio, and doing her crossword puzzles. Sometimes she'd take off the headphones and lay the book down on her chest and try to drop off to sleep. But I'd see her grimace or hear a sharp intake of breath or notice her press her lips tightly together. Sometimes tears come. "She breaks down pretty easy," Dad told me. "That's how I know she is having a hard time."

There is construction going on above her head. They are adding a fifth floor to the hospital. It is so noisy I can't imagine it's possible for anyone to relax and rest in there. She doesn't mind it, she says. I mind it on her behalf.

At one point she said "It's nice of you to sit here, but maybe you shouldn't. It's hard on you, too."

Perhaps she thinks when I walk out of the hospital I forget about her and what she is going through. But no. I feel freeze-dried on the outside, and as if a sharp knife is turning on the inside.

When I'm with her I take deep breaths and try to remain calm. I send her green light, I call on angels and spirits and God, it doesn't work, she still hurts. She reaches for my hand. When I rub hers, it hurts. She hasn't let me work on her feet for two days.

"Just don't touch the bed," she begs.