Wednesday, March 15, 2017

We still have not shoveled the entire drive, and we cannot open the porch doors. They are blocked by mounds of snowdrifts. Everything is an ordeal today. I must wear cleats on my boots and must smear Vaseline on Valentino’s paws before we go out. But Rob and I cleared the front walkway for emergencies.

Although I called the CNA at hospice and told her not to come today owing to the ice on the road, I regretted it in short order. Mom had a very bad night. She moaned in pain, but we didn’t know where the pain was coming from. We gave her some Ativan and hoped she would be able to sleep, but it was a fitful sleep. Yesterday was her worst day. I know organ failure is in progress. Her left hand is blue and cold and she is still asleep, but breathing more rapidly than usual. This deterioration is too difficult to watch. I tried giving mom some Reiki, but I needed to get away from her. I told mom to go. It’s time. This body is broken. We will be fine. But I didn’t mean the last part. Or maybe I did. I will go back and lay my hands upon her again and tell her that I love her. I just don’t like saying it with such finality.

I called my brother John and he will be on his way shortly. My dear neighbor Barbara is also on her way. I am so blessed to have friends and neighbors all wrapped up in one.

And I have already told mom that I love her and that her body is broken and worn. It’s time for her to leave it and be with daddy and her parents and her siblings—Little Marge, Big Marge, Mary, Helen, Rose, Vera, John, and Sam. What a reunion it will be!