Waiting and Hoping

I’m sitting at the foot of my mom’s bed in a hospice in Phoenix. The view through the picture window is of a lovely patio with Mexican tiles and a gated round pool surrounded by a variety of plants and trees. Only in Phoenix can you see a pine tree growing next to a mesquite.

She hopes that being free of the tubes and wires of the ICU will allow her to recover. We all hope so.

I had a dream a few nights ago, before the ICU and before the meetings with doctors and the case manager. I walked into the room and it looked as though she had died so I shook her and tried to wake her up. Her eyes opened and she said, “You know I’m going to die, don’t you?” End of dream. It woke me up and I told Vicki, but she made no comment.

My mom, Helen, has lived on borrowed time since uterine cancer in the 70’s. I couldn’t even tell you the number of times she has visited the hospital. Our hope has been to fix up a place for her so that the last few years of her life would be comfortable, active, and worry-free. We may only succeed for the last few days.

Right now she is relaxing on her air bed, alternately dozing off and talking to me. Sometimes what is said makes sense, sometimes not. “It’s really beautiful here,” and then, “I hope the girls are getting a nap.” “What girls?” I ask, followed by silence. It may be the morphine, at least she isn’t in pain and she is right about it being beautiful here.