I am at DragonCon. Yay!

Football news

This is going to be a post about soccer.  You may want to stop reading now.

Several interesting tidbits of news have popped up in the last couple of days.

1.  Sadly, two players collapsed on the field while playing (in different games on different days in different countries).  The 27 year old player is reportedly doing well but doesn't know when he will be released from the hospital.  The 22 year old player was revived enough to walk off the pitch and into the medical area of the stadium.  He collapsed again, was taken away in an ambulance and died two days later.  22!  I've done some reading about this and it looks like sudden cardiac arrest is not foreign to The Beautiful Game.  Most of the players who suffer these kinds of attacks have congenital heart defects which are not found until something like this happens.  Although, in the case of the 22 year old, he had fainted at least twice before during games and training sessions.  Since he plays in Spain, it was chalked up to heat exhaustion and basically ignored.  Very sad.

2.  The European season has started again.  I've only watched two Arsenal games, but I'm very happy with the results.  As I mentioned before, I was very upset that my boy Henry left for Barcelona.  However, it turns out that he was such a superstar that the rest of the team relied too heavily on him.  Too often they made it their goal to get the ball to Henry instead of getting the ball in the, uh, actual goal.  Now that he's gone, it looks like they've all realized that each one has to contribute.  The games have been exciting, although I'm still annoyed that we didn't beef up our defensive line by buying more players. 

3.  Barcelona.  Well now that my boy is playing over there, I've decided to watch their games.  Unfortunately, I've had a hard time finding their games on TV.  I will get to see them eventually.  They've got too many superstars to be ignored.  So I really really really like the Barca squad.  A lot of that has to do with the presence of Ronaldinho, a man whose moves are as beautiful as he is decidedly not.  Ronaldinho is a joy to watch.  I just read an interesting bit of news that Chelsea (a very rich English team who can afford to buy as many superstars as they want) is pursuing Ronaldinho.  On the one hand, I would get to see him when Arsenal play Chelsea.  On the other hand, he would be playing for a team not mine in my league.  On the third hand, I really do want to see him and Henry play together at Barca for at least a season.  BUT!  Hold the phone.  The same news item explained that Ronaldinho's brother-manager was recently in England...at an Arsenal match.  Now why would his manager go to an Arsenal match when it's Chelsea who's courting him?  Could there be even the minutest of chances that Arsenal is secretly courting him?  While I am salivating at the idea of seeing him play in my colors, I am not too certain that would be a good thing for the squad.  Ronaldinho plays a different position than Henry, so he may not have the same superstar-get-the-ball-to-only-him effect (since getting the ball to someone is his job).  But we are full up to the brim with midfielders right now.  We had two midfielders playing as defensive players in a recent game because that's all we could substitute for injured linesmen.  I know, I know, Ronaldinho is a winger and it would be amazing to see him, Cesc and van Persie play together.  But I really do want to give Rosicky and Hleb a good shot this season.  Oy.  I wouldn't have Wenger's job for the world.

4.  Speaking of Arsene Wenger, (Who is that, you ask?  The Arsenal manager, that's who.) there has been a lot of talk about him leaving after this season.  Henry said that Arsene told him he would leave and cited that as one of his reasons for going to Barca.  Since Wenger brought Henry to Arsenal and made him a superstar, that was pretty strong evidence, in my mind, that Wenger probably would go elsewhere.  Rumors have been circulating that he'd go to Real Madrid, another team I like to watch and would adopt if he made that move.  But contrary to all that talk, the news coming out now is that he may be close to renegotiating a 3 or 4 year contract with Arsenal.  I'm not pinning my hopes on it.  I don't think Wenger tells the press what he's really thinking.  But it does kinda make sense.  Most of the players are incredibly young.  Wenger hand-picked most of them because "he" saw something that he really liked and wanted to develop.  This team of youngsters has made a decent showing, but hasn't shone yet.  I think Wenger's ego won't let him leave until he has worked his magic and turned all these kids into superstars.  But I could be completely wrong.  It's happened once or twice.

5.  Bayern Munich.  Just when I wanted to stop collecting favorite teams, I had to tune in to a match between Bayern Munich and Werder Bremen.  If you recall from last summer, Germany and France were my favorite teams at the World Cup.  I don't really follow the German league, but I do remember the stars from that national team (one of whom is a keeper for Arsenal).  I also can't follow the French league because none of the channels I get show their matches.  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that several of my favorite players from those national teams now play for Bayern Munich - Miroslav Klose, Lukas Podolski, Oliver Kahn, and Franck Ribery.  Last season, there were rumors that Arsenal was going to buy Ribery.  Those obviously didn't pan out.  I should also mention that one of Poly's favorite Italian players is on this squad, Luca Toni.  This is a really good squad.  So now I've got a third?, fourth? team that I would like to watch on occasion.  I don't think it ever ends.  How could I ever have thought this sport was boring? 

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1 week and 2 days

I know it has only been a week and I know that this poem was written from a wife to her lost husband, but I can't get it out of my head. (Substitute the "him"s for "her"s.)

"Time Does Not Bring Relief"
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quieter place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.


It's those last four lines that haunt me. How can I make new friends or meet new people when I can't introduce them to my mother? Can anyone ever really know me if they've never met her? I don't think so.

Mama's final moments

It was virtually impossible for me to concentrate at work on Friday. I guess some part of me knew that Super Mom's arrival that day could be what you so often hear about as the final "release" for a dying person. How many stories have you heard about someone hanging on until that one last relative arrives and then lets go?

I was worried about Super Mom seeing Mama when she got there. I called her while she was still driving up to tell her not to go into the room alone. She needed to have The Doctor with her the first time she saw Mama in her bed-ridden/almost non-responsive state.

I finally got to Mama's house at my normal time that evening. I went into the room and held her hand on one side while Super Mom held her hand on the other. Mama had a very firm grip on my hand. She made a few facial expressions which seemed to indicate that she was cognizant but couldn't communicate. Super Mom even thinks that at one point Mama tried to say my name. My sister and I just carried on a normal conversation so that Mama could listen in. We wanted her to feel like she was really benefiting from the visit.

At some point in the evening, both Super Mom and The Doctor thought that Mama was crying. Since she couldn't produce any tears, they could only go on tiny facial expressions and a little bit of shoulder shaking. The evening seemed to slip by pretty quickly. Before I knew it, it was 8:00. That's normally the time I go home.

I did take Super Mom's mother-in-law back to The Doctor's house to be with all the kids. I went inside briefly to see the kids, but then I got back to Mama's house. I could have easily missed my mother's dying moments.

My two sisters were on either side of my mother. My father was at her head. Daddy was speaking consoling words to her (which he'd done a few times that day), telling her that we were going to be alright, that she'd been a great mother and wife and that we all loved her very much. The Doctor got very upset but I could tell that it was more than just the emotional scene getting to her. I was sitting on Daddy's bed, so I got up to see for myself what had upset my sister so. My mother's hands were the color of a squid's ink - a bluish-black that I interpreted as a severe lack of oxygen. I realized that Mama was almost hyperventilating. I wanted to get her calmed down. I got up to her head, laid my head on hers so that my mouth was close to her ear and asked her to calm down. I tried to assure her that everything was OK, but that she needed to slow her breathing down. I even told her that she needed to go to sleep.

I know I'm not reconstructing the timeline correctly, because at some point, my father called my sister-in-law to tell her that it looked very serious. I didn't realize that he'd spoken with her, I thought he'd left a message. So I was a little surprised when she walked in. It had not taken her long to get there.

Mama seemed to calm down. Her breathing slowed. We thought it may be a little while yet. Daddy said that he was going to lay on the bed. He looked exhausted. He was filthy from working in the yard all day and my sisters had just put new sheets on his bed. We coaxed him into taking a shower, but asked him to make it a quick one.

Mama died while Daddy was in the shower - around 9:00. It felt like it took us an eternity to figure out if she had actually died. It's not like in the movies. Even when you know you're on a death-watch, you still don't think about something so simple as "How will I know when she's dead?" I certainly hope that none of you will ever have to find out.

We called hospice. The night nurse (who we had only met for the first time last Friday) came out to do the necessary things. She disconnected the few pieces of equipment that were attached to Mama. She disposed of the narcotics that were in our possession. She called the funeral home that we'd made arrangements with. She did a wonderful job and treated my mother with respect and dignity. I was the only one who stayed with Mama the whole time the nurse performed her duties. I filled out all the paperwork. I don't understand why (and I'm not sure if I ever will) but I needed to see the whole thing through.

I did not, however, watch the men from the funeral home take my mother out of the house. I knew that I did not want to have that image in my mind. I didn't want to see two complete strangers take her away. It was fine with me to simply know that it had happened and to go into her room to see her empty bed.

Daddy expected us to spend the night with him. I kinda wanted to come home, but I knew that was out of the question. The Doctor and I slept in Daddy's guest room on the second floor. Super Mom had to go home to see about her children. She had to take one of her daughters to see a doctor first thing the following morning (which it technically already was).

The following day would bring lots and lots of visitors.

Its over. The only person who has ever truly loved me is gone.

Updates will be more frequent now

Two of the nurses working Mama's case have told us that they don't think Mama will make it past the weekend. I don't know what to think. No one really knows. But then again, these people do this for a living, they should recognize certain signs. All I can do is be there - not waste a single second.

Speaking of, my company is having a rah-rah gathering tomorrow afternoon. They're going bowling. Lunch and bowling is supposed to last until around 2:30 and then they're letting people go home early. I am skipping the whole thing. I'm not going to be stuck in a stupid bowling alley when there's a pretty real chance that my mother may die. My boss is being so supportive about all of this. I wish they could just put this bowling thing off for 2 more weeks. I hate skipping out on non-holiday related events.

I found out that my aunt and uncle are going home tomorrow. I'm glad they came, but I'm a little confused that they aren't staying longer. I think Daddy could use the company, especially if Mama does die this week.

The Doctor said that any dance-able music was a hit with Mama. She caught Mama trying to sing along as well. When I got to Mama's house, she had drifted off to sleep. One of her all-time favorite songs was playing, "Kansas City." I couldn't go in the room. That song conjures strong memories of Mama for me already, I don't ever, ever, ever want to associate it with her death. I went to the kitchen to eat dinner while she was sleeping.

Over the last few weeks, there have been certain times when Mama feels anxious. She fiddles with the stuff around and attached to her. She is restless and can't seem to shake the feeling of anxiety on her own. We have a pill that really helps to calm her down. But she can no longer swallow pills. So when she told me tonight, "I'm anxious," there was nothing I could do for her. I changed the music since I was playing a Bing Crosby/Rosemary Clooney CD that I particularly like, but I suspected that she didn't love it. I changed over to Johnny Mathis. I actually did out her anxiety pill under her tongue thinking that it would dissolve. It didn't. But she seemed to be a little more calm, maybe the non-dissolving pill acted as a placebo.

We have to plan what we're going to do with people after the memorial service. The last one I went to was held at a hotel (in the same room where we held the actual Memorial celebration this year). It was a catered lunch. I don't know what we're going to do.

A new week

I got over to Mama's house before 6 on Monday evening.  My sister-in-law was there, as it was her scheduled day. 

My father's oldest brother and his wife were also there.  They brought dinner, a seafood dish with shrimp and crawfish that I never got around to eating.  My uncle was just there 8 days earlier.  He'd come to visit with my father's friends from college.  My aunt had not been to see Mama since she'd been so sick.  This aunt is a nurse, though most of her career was spent in academia teaching nursing and serving as an expert witness in trials.  I suppose on some level, she's had practical experience, but I think it has been quite a long time. 

As I mentioned in my last update, Mama stares off vacantly when she's not being actively engaged by someone in the room.  Her vision is really bad, so she can't watch TV.  It is really upsetting to see her lying in that bed so helpless and lifeless.  While I was sitting at her side, holding her hand, my uncle came in the room.  He reached out to touch her, he rubbed her arm a few times.  He was only able to do that for a couple of minutes before he was overcome with emotion and had to leave the room.  I was moved by how strong his reaction was.  But unfortunately, death is no stranger to his family.

My aunt and uncle lost their 18 year old daughter 2 weeks before her high school graduation.  It was one of the most tragic losses our family has suffered (only matched by the death of my uncle's 30-something wife who left behind three young boys).  After the loss of his daughter, my uncle went into a deep depression that caused him to be a little "off" for a number of years.  I believe he finally sought help through the use of anti-depressants and is now much closer to his old self.  It's been 21 years.

Anyway, I started to think about other reasons why my uncle may be so emotional.  Besides perhaps just having a more emotional core than the other men in my father's family, he has also known my mother basically as long as my father.  This uncle went to college with my father, they pledged the same fraternity.  They were close in college and I'm sure they were in the same social crowd.  So when my parents' began dating, I'm sure this uncle was with them.  He was there as they got to know each other.  He probably had conversations with my father about his "new" girlfriend and how it was going.  He watched their relationship grow.  And now he's watching her die.

By the time my aunt and uncle left, I couldn't get Mama to respond to say goodbye.  She simply didn't register that we were speaking to her.  The best news of the evening was that my aunt acknowledged that we seemed to be doing everything we could to make her as comfortable as possible.  She couldn't make a single recommendation of anything we could do differently or better.

Both The Doctor and my sister-in-law have told me a couple of things Mama has said that indicate that she really doesn't know who any of us are anymore.  I already suspected that.  Sometimes when I call her "Mama," she doesn't respond or realize that I'm talking to her.  I have to touch her face and repeat my question to get her attention.  Of course, I see her when she is at her most tired - after she's been awake all day and been poked, prodded, or bathed by various nurses.  But even when she's not tired, she says things that make no sense.  She told my SiL that The Doctor can read.  Sometime yesterday, The Doctor asked her if she knew who she was.  Mama said, "Yeah, you're my Mama."  When any of us tell her that we love her, she is very quick to say, "I love you too."  I know that she doesn't know who she's talking to.  But it doesn't matter.  She's got a big heart and she loves whoever is talking to her.

I decided on Monday evening that I really wanted to get some music CDs over to her house for her to listen to.  Since she can't watch TV, I know listening to it isn't interesting.  It was just too late when I left to get bring the CDs back on Monday night.  I thought I may try to get them over there on Tuesday morning, but that would have made me too late for work.  Instead, I called The Doctor and asked her to stop by my place to pick them up.  She said that she would send Daddy over to get them some time during the day.  When I called later that day to see if they'd gotten the CDs, she said that they hadn't and that she didn't think they would do any good.  I was really annoyed but tried not to let her know it.  It had become very important to me to get music over to Mama. 

I stopped by my house to get the CDs before going to Mama's.  The Doctor was still there for a little while.  I immediately put in the greatest hits of The Mills Brothers.  I don't think my sister had every heard of them.  Daddy came in to say that this music was too old since it was from the 40s.  While that is true, I know for a fact that Mama loves the Mills Brothers.  We've talked about them.  She lights up when she hears their songs.  Even more importantly, I realized, is that I can sing most of the songs on that CD.  So instead of just sitting by her bed, holding her hand and staring at the wall, I was singing to my mother.  On particularly uptempo songs, I saw her patting her legs.  I swear I even saw her lips moving on one or two songs as if she was trying to sing along.  (While she can talk when she wants to, her breathing is not strong enough to sing.)

My whole mood lifted.  I was still sad that this is happening, but I finally felt like I'm doing all I can to mentally and emotionally support her.  We had such perfect timing with that CD that it was precisely time for the meeting to begin when it finished.  I told her that we were going to listen to the meeting.  She perked up and said, "OK."  I was sure to get out my song book and sing the kingdom songs for her, too.  I told her that it was time for the opening prayer.  I sneaked a peak to see what she was doing - she had her eyes closed.  I was elated that she seemed to understand what was going on.  But then she didn't reopen them when the prayer was over, so I think she began listening to the prayer and fell asleep during it.  She woke back up, maybe during the Bible highlights.  I saw her fighting to stay awake for the rest of the meeting.  I don't know how much she got out of it, but she understood that she was listening to the meeting.

I left her house at close to 10:00 after seeing to a couple of her personal needs.  I left her listening to Dean Martin's Greatest Hits.  I told her to go to sleep while listening to it.  She said that she would.  I was pretty annoyed that Daddy wouldn't go to bed.  He wanted to watch the rest of the baseball game and then he still had to take a shower after that.  I don't like for Mama to be by herself for that long.  She does occasionally call out for ice or water.  It makes me ill to think that no one is there to hear her and fulfill that need.

Mama's brother, his wife and her sister came by to see her today.  I think they were there for a couple of hours.  They've been pretty good about coming to see her since she's been so sick.  They live a couple of hours away.  I really, really like this uncle the more I get to know him.  He has been there for so many people in the family.  My grandmother had two single brothers who suffered from palsy.  One died when I was a child.  The other, an invalid for at least all of my life, outlived my grandmother by quite a few years.  My uncle looked after my grandmother's death.  I think he's now also looking after another aunt whose own children have dropped her in a nursing home near him and refuse to visit regularly.  He's a stand up guy.  (But he only stands up to about 5'-5".  I come from short people on both sides.)

One of my father's sisters and her husband are staying with Daddy for a few days.  This sister is a little bit younger than Daddy, but her kids are about the same age as my older siblings.  Her husband and my father have always been good friends - they love to watch college football together. 

We've started talking about what personal things we want to be said in her memorial talk.  There are so many things I want to be said, but I can't get my mind straight to list them out.  If any of you have particular impressions of what my mother meant to you or what you think she meant to her friends & family, I'd appreciate hearing the sentiment.

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2Stupid 2Have a Kid

A New Zealand couple wants to name their baby "4Real."  The Kiwi government won't let them because it insists that names can't begin with a number. 

On the one hand, I don't think a government should be able to control what you name your child.  But on the other hand, that is an incredibly stupid name and I'm glad that someone is looking out for the child, even if it is Big Brother.  The couple is going to settle for the birth certificate name of "Superman," but call the child "4Real."  I wonder if they will wait for his adult teeth to come in before they get him a set of grills.

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I'm a moron.

I am supposed to be real savvy-like on the internets.  I work in IT and keep up with all the latest technology news.  But that doesn't mean that I can't make bone-headed mistakes just like a real person.

The other day, I got a rather cool message from my favorite Jewish TV host, Josh Bernstein.  (And considering how many cool Jewish TV hosts are out there, "favorite" is a rather impressive title to hold.)  Yes, this was an email message that he sent out to many, many people, not just me.  Anyway, it was a message that I almost deleted as SPAM since I didn't recognize the sender.  But I took a chance and opened the message ... and was pleasantly surprised.

Today, I got three odd messages that just had numbers in the subject line.  I deleted the first two, but curious, I opened the third.  When I realized that the third one was blank, I closed and deleted it.  That couple of seconds was enough to cause me worlds of misery.  Why didn't I remember that curiosity killed the cat?  That particular piece of SPAM was simply looking for a genuine domain name that it could spoof from which to "send out" SPAM.  So now people all over the planet are getting SPAM messages that appear to be coming from my personal domain name.  Usually the email server catches the message, marks it as SPAM and sends back a nasty message.  Sometimes the message says that the email address "I" was trying to reach is not valid.  Other times, the email server is just wagging it's virtual finger in my face to say, "Bad SPAMMER, I'm on to you.  You're not getting this message through to my people." 

Of course, the problem is that I'm not the SPAMMER.  I'm the spoofee.  The real trouble happens when and if someone goes to the company who hosts my domain to report me as a SPAMMER.  I tried to nip that in the bud by confessing to my domain hosting company that someone is spoofing me.  My domain hosting company has not gotten back to me.  I doubt that they will drop me, this kind of stuff happens all the time. 

Thankfully, I don't anticipate ever wanting to send email out from that domain.  But if I do, I will probably have trouble because now I'm going to be "blacklisted." 

I haven't done something this stoopid on the internet in a long time.

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"She's not going to recover from this"

Infectious Laughter came to see me and Mama on Thursday evening.  Mama was lying on the couch.  She recognized Laughter, but made a few statements later in the evening to indicate that she wasn't fully with it. 

At one point, Laughter was talking about her condo.  Mama asked me, "Where does she live?"  Granted, Mama has never been to Laughter's condo, but she knows where Laughter lives.  Mama showed how really confused she was when she looked at me and asked, "Where do you live?"  I answered, "Just about 2 or 3 miles from here."  Then Mama made some comment like, "I don't know where I live anymore."  I answered, "Right now, you live on this couch."  Mama nodded weakly and said, "That's the truth."

Later, Laughter told me that I was hysterical for answering Mama that way.  I don't know what was so funny about it.  That's the way Mama and I talk to each other.  She knows I wasn't serious and I knew she would respond to what I'd said.  I think she knows that she shouldn't have asked me where I live.  She knew that she should have been able to answer that question.  I guess my answer was an unconscious effort to distract her from that, a way to not let her get upset about not knowing.

We put Mama to bed a little early.  She was asleep by 7.  Laughter and I then went to dinner.  I don't know how I didn't fall asleep in my plate.  I was completely exhausted, more tired than I think I've ever been in my life.  So far, I've been able to discuss my mother's death rationally.  I know it's going to happen and I know that her future is secure.  But there was one brief moment during my conversation with Laughter when I felt a wave of nausea wash over me at the thought of losing Mama.  It felt very, very wrong to be sitting there, eating steak, while the most important person in my life wastes away.  I pushed that feeling aside and was able to finish my dinner.  Rationally, I know that my life must continue.  I have to work and eat and sleep.  But every once in a while, that wave of nausea pulses over me again.  Yesterday, it left a knot in my stomach that I haven't been able to get rid of.

I stayed home from work on Friday.  I slept until 8:30 or 9:00.  I watched a little TV in the morning and then climbed back into bed around noon.  I slept until 4:00 in the afternoon.  I had no idea how badly I needed sleep.  I got to Mama's around 6:00 as I normally would have.  Daddy was preparing to go to out of town to deal with his rental property the next day.  The Doctor's husband and son were out of town, so she was able to spend the night with Daddy.  Friday was the first day that Mama did not get out of bed.  She has not been out of bed since.  Laughter was the last visitor to see Mama in the den, on the couch.

The weekend was rough.  On Saturday, The Doctor and I were at the house while Daddy was out of town.  Mama just laid in her bed and wouldn't take anything we offered her - a couple of sips of water, but no Boost.  She slept most of the day.  Sunday, I was there with Daddy while The Doctor went to the meeting.  Super Mom called just before going to her meeting.  She asked if I thought Mama could talk to her for a few seconds.  At first, I didn't think she could, but then I realized that she was awake enough to talk a little.  I held the phone up to her ear.  Her voice was very weak and thready.  She responded to the few things Super Mom said, but didn't initiate any conversation.  I took the phone away to speak to Super Mom.  She was in tears.  Even though she expected Mama to sound badly, it was still difficult to hear.  Mama continued to respond to the things Super Mom had said after the call was over.  I answered for Super Mom until Mama decided that the conversation was over.

I think the most difficult thing for me is to see her lying in the bed awake.  On some level, she knows you're there.  If you speak to her, she will respond.  It may take her a minute to process what you've said to her, but she will answer.  But she doesn't say anything unless she's first spoken to.  I feel like I should be right there by her bed, telling her witty stories, keeping her mind engaged.  But I don't have it in me.  I've thought about reading to her, but I don't think that would do it.  I think I need to actively tell her stories.  There's nothing going on in my life that I can talk to her about.  So I sit there.  Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I hold her hand, and sometimes I scratch her head until she falls asleep.  When I finally get up to leave, I tell her that I'm going home.  She seems confused about that, as if she thinks that I live there with her.

As I collected my things to go home yesterday, Daddy finally came in to tell me, "I don't like the things I've seen over the last couple of days.  I guess it's obvious now that she's not going to recover from this."  What about her situation made him think that she had a chance of recovering before?  She doesn't have a fever that we're hoping will break.  Her body can't heal itself from cancer.  She hasn't eaten food in weeks.  Has he honestly not noticed all of this?  Was he deluding himself?  Does he think he was "protecting" me by only now admitting that she is going to die?  I don't guess I'll ever have an answer to those questions.  It just seemed an odd thing to say.

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It Gets Worse

We've finally worked out a real schedule for each of us to look after Mama.  My sister and sister-in-law alternate weekdays (also alternating Fridays).  I am there in the evenings to put her to bed (excepting Tuesdays).  I think I am responsible for Saturday afternoons.  I don't know who is responsible for Sunday afternoons. 

Mama had a terrible evening this Tuesday night.  She didn't go to sleep until 5:00 Wednesday morning and was then up around 9:00.  Daddy didn't really sleep any of that time either.  He claims that he gave her the sleeping pill and that it didn't work.  Since he put her to bed by himself, I suspect that what he gave her was not the sleeping pill.  She always falls asleep after I give her the sleeping pill.  Last night, she was out very easily, but she was also pretty tired from not sleeping the previous evening. 

I got to see the hospital bed and the wheelchair.  The wheelchair is too big to fit through her bathroom door.  That caused an ordeal last night.  She wanted to try to go to the bathroom before going to bed.  I'll recap the highlights of why going to the bathroom is an issue for Mama: tumor wrapped around her intestines, intestines closed off, nothing can get through, if nothing can get out, we have to stop putting stuff in, so no food for weeks, no poopie for weeks and while Mama doesn't understand most of the situation, she understands that a person who doesn't poop isn't healthy.  So she thinks that just getting on that toilet and sitting there for a while will make the poop come out.  It doesn't. 

Last night when she insisted on "sitting" for a while, I let her do so even though I knew it wouldn't do any good.  But I had to put her in the little bathroom.  Getting her out was almost impossible.  By the time she was "done," she didn't have enough energy to stand on her own.  The bathroom isn't really big enough for me to get in there to hold her up.  I had to get Daddy to drag/lift her away from her stance in front of the sink.  She was so worn out (or confused) that she couldn't follow any of our simple commands.  I turned on the water and told her to wash her hands (while she was leaning over on the sink) but she didn't seem to understand what I was telling her to do.  When I finally pulled her hands out far enough to wash them, she grunted a weak, "Oh."  Then Daddy tried to tell her to let go of the door jamb so they could get out of the bathroom.  She didn't even acknowledge that she'd heard him.  I reached in and removed her surprisingly still strong grip so that she could proceed past the threshold. 

I got her into her bed and turned on her side.  She doesn't like to sleep on her side in bed.  But she loves to sleep on her side on the couch.  But right now she has a really big, very nasty bedsore on her bottom (where her spine meets her hips) from sitting and sleeping in the same position.  Frankly, I am shocked that she developed this sore in what seems to be such a short period of time.  I did some research on "pressure sores" and found out that losing a significant amount of weight increases while being in the same position increases the likelihood of getting a sore.  The nurse says that her sore is not infected, but that she absolutely can not put pressure on it anymore.  When she lays on the couch, she is on her right side.  When she lays in her bed, she is on her left side.  We have to keep track of that now because in trying to avoid laying on her back, we don't want to cause another sore on her hips or side.

She worries about the medications we give her.  I don't know what all the meds are called.  I can generally list what the meds she's taking do: a laxative, a softener, a sleeping pill, and something to reduce the inflammation around her tumor.  But the only ones I can identify without looking at the bottle are the sleeping pill and that anti-inflammatory.  Those are the ones I give her at night.  She's down from four pills to two at night.  Yet, she still asks me what they are every night.  Every night, I tell her, "One is your sleeping pill and I don't know what the other is.  It's in your bedtime pill box.  The nurse laid it out for you."  Last night was the first time that I thought I was going to lose my patience with her ritual of reluctance.  I tried to soften my annoyance by joking with her, "Mama, you're giving me a complex that you don't trust me.  Do you think I would give you something that you don't need?  Please just take the pills."  She acknowledged that she trusts me, but explained that she needs to keep track of what she takes and when she takes it.  Well, that's a hold-over from when we still letting her dose herself.  We asked her to keep a written log of what and when she took (mostly because we couldn't let her miss her blood pressure medication).  So there she is, lying in a hospital bed in her own room, with no pen, paper or journal, trying to keep a mental log of the medications that her family is giving her. 

I am ashamed that I got annoyed.  Here's an honest evaluation of the situation:  I'm not sleeping much.  I'm not stretching so leaning over to lift, move or support Mama makes my back hurt quite a bit.  I got Mama perfectly situated in her bed *before* giving her her meds.  So all that back pain had to be repeated after propping her up to take her pills.  So I'm really frustrated at myself, not at her.  And it is completely unacceptable to show any of that frustration to her.  She's the one dying.

Laughter is finally in town.  Her sister was visiting her this week and broke her wrist badly while playing tennis.  They weren't sure if she was going to do her surgery (I said it was bad) down there or up here.  Thankfully, they decided to do it up here and Laughter came home with them.  She wants to see Mama tonight.  I've tried to prepare her as much as possible for what she's going see.  Mama looks really bad now.  She's going to get the worst of it because she's going over there with me at the end of the day.  Mama is so worn out by that time, that you can't visit with her.  I tried to explain that we will go through the "putting to bed" ritual.  She says that she will be OK.  I don't think she will - she loves my mother too much and has never had to deal with sickness like this before.  But maybe it's me who won't be able to handle having her there.  I can handle all this with my siblings.  But having Laughter there will add a new emotional layer for me.  She's the one with whom I experienced childhood, not my own siblings.  I hope I'm able to stay focused on my tasks. 

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