Weary

We are all utterly exhausted. We are simply spent--emotionally, physically, psychologically. We have been keeping vigil at the hospital with Mom-o (our name for my mom's mom) for days now, with little change. Night before last, we were essentially told the end was imminent, so I called a sub for yesterday (Wednesday), and Laura, Mom, and I camped out in her room all night, with someone awake at all times to monitor her (they removed her heart monitor when we told them "comfort measures only," so if her heart were to stop, the medical staff would not know). I will tell you that it was utterly horrifying. Her blood pressure plummeted all day long, until the bottom number was 29 at one point. She made horrible noises as she struggled for air, and over and over, we thought it was the end. But, as is typical of the world's most stubborn woman, she rallied.

Finally, at 5 am, I couldn't take it anymore. Every time we thought the end was near, I almost threw up. I finally had to go home and get a little sleep. I slept an hour and a half when I got home, got up to help Mark get the kids out the door, then collapsed back in bed. I slept until 11, went to the hospital for an hour or two, then came back home and slept some more. I went back to the hospital around 4 and stayed until a little after 8. Her condition had improved somewhat throughout the day yesterday--her blood pressure was back up closer to normal levels, and every time she opened her eyes, she actually seemed lucid. Her heart rate, however, continues to hover around 130 (where it has been for days now). There is only a certain amount of time that a heart can sustain a rate like that, so we'll see what happens with that.

I literally had barely seen my children in two days and I missed them. So I got home last night a bit after eight, just in time to squeeze Kate and take her up to bed. She seemed so happy to see me and it made me want to cry. I wanted to spend time with her, but it was already over an hour past her bedtime. I did get to spend some quality time with Dan, though. He wanted to watch Maisy (I think he is in love with this mouse), so we cuddled up on the couch and watched Maisy have some adventures with her friends. Then I put him to bed. It felt so good to snuggle with him.

My cousins Angie and Toni came up to the hospital last night to stay with Mom-o, and we were so thankful to have them there so we could take a break. As of right now, I haven't been informed of any change, so I suppose things are much the same.

On to Dad. I still don't think he's made a decision about whether to try the new chemo. It has only about a 5 to 10% chance of helping, but even if it does, we are still looking at 3-6 months. He is sick and tired of his recliner, so we are actually at the point of considering getting a hospital bed in the living room, so he can have the big bow window to look out of, and the T.V. to watch. He is very weak, and the thrush is still bothering him, so he still isn't eating much. If he decides to abandon chemo, the next step will be to call in Hospice, and honestly, I can't believe I just typed that.

Mom and I have been talking about all this, and it's almost eerie, the calm with which we are all handling it. Mom is, of course, utterly exhausted (she looks like a walking zombie), but emotionally, she seems okay, as we all are. And I think the reality has just not hit us yet. Mom and I said last night that as we are talking about all of this--Hospice, hospital beds, abdominal drainage tubes--that it's like we're talking about someone else. We have these conversations and we deal with things, but it's as if we are in a really bad dream from which we know we will wake up.

My part of it is that I am really good at compartmentalizing things. And I have to be. I have so many plates to juggle right now that I just simply don't have time to lose it. I have to be a mom to my kids, and they are way too young to understand any of this, so there's no use in scaring them by being a basket-case. I have to teach my students, and it's not their fault my life is falling apart, so I owe it to them to go in each day and be the best teacher I can be. I have to be a wife to my husband, who, God bless him, has been absolutely amazing through all of this. Still, though, it's not fair to him for me to just be emotionally absent. I feel a little like Scarlett O'Hara: "I'll think about that tomorrow." I guess there will be time to fall apart later.

Please continue to keep our family in your prayers. I feel as if we are neglecting Dad right now, with all of us practically living at the hospital. He isn't complaining, of course, but we are torn, because we want to spend every second possible with him, but at the same time, we feel the need to be at the hospital because we don't want Mom-o to be alone. Pray for Mom, who is on the brink of collapse from the exhaustion. Pray for my sister, who continues to juggle her two kids while trying to help Mom as much as possible. And pray for my three siblings who are out of state and have to rely on updates from us and figure out ways to get up here to spend time with Dad in what time he has left.