Friday evening we decide to stay the night and watch over her. She seems afraid to be alone...so restless and thirsty. From the light of the IV machine, I could see her searching for a drink. I clumsily lumber out of the reclining chair and direct the straw to her mouth for a quick sip. Typically frigid, she wants all the covers removed. My hip and back are sore, I crawl beside her to snuggle. Her breathing is labored, short, shallow, quick... the nurse offers morphine for relief. Her long pause reveals hesitation, but she eventually agrees. Tears…I remember my father-in-law, Wayne, watching his previous wife fade from lung cancer..her final days in a morphine haze. A quick squirt and soon her breathing is regulated. Morning comes quickly…neither of us fully rested. Groggy, but glad Mom is still with us…Bonus day #2!
Trekking home for a quick shower and some restocking, I anxiously return to the hospital to switch shifts with Angel. She needs her rest so I encourage her to sleep and eat. Throughout the day, the entire family comes and it looks like Dad will finally get that honest quiet time we have been waiting for. So curious whether he encouraged her to let go, we sit together to chat. He is overwhelmed. He dressed up this visit…out of his typical mechanic’s attire. He’s trying his best. He asks me questions about the next steps afterwards. I realize I hadn’t kept him in the loop…he’s been worried about funeral plans but Mom and I have it all covered. I am ashamed for keeping him in the dark. In an effort to advocate Mom, I should have reassured him, too, that some bases are covered.
Mom sleeps most of the day. Only eating a few bites of yogurt but expelling it soon after. She savored one soft nibble of crab ball but not much more. Sad brother hopes that protein drink with caffeine will break the spell. She’s already running on borrowed time…this is what the end looks like. We are rewarded with 5 second alert periods. We all jump eagerly to meet her needs…do you want a drink? need a blanket? Any pain? I find myself counting between breaths…like a thunderstorm. A quick inhale after 10 seconds…seems like a lifetime. Her following breath a huge relief.
The doctors have taken her off of all IV’s, to our surprise. I thought we were still considering that option. I was sure the disconnect would bring a quick spiral, but I should have known, she’s always the fighter. We fill the room with Kari Jobe and Jesus Culture..creating a reverent atmosphere. I keep busy shuffling and cleaning, offering sips, and recollecting stories with sis. Glad to have Aunt Gail visit…she loves Mom like a sister. I can see in her eyes that she has sadly confirmed her fears. Her own Cancer journey with husband still too fresh.
Night comes, yet again, and we situate ourselves in the un-comfy sleep chairs. Lined up and on alert. Watching, listening, waiting.
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