Hope Floats

I just keep hoping that she will wake up energized. I keep hoping that after she sleeps all that fatigue off, she will feel better. I have been hoping for days now. When she is awake, she is either really affectionate and loving or really vacant and quiet. Her pain is obvious in her face and her movements. She cannot find a comfortable position to sit or lay in. I want to wake her, but feel guilty doing so because of how she hurts when she is awake. It is amazing how we got here. A few days ago, she was eating bbq and hanging out with us. A couple days ago, though she wasn't great, she was yelling "boo!" at the girls over and over to make them giggle. Today, she barely spoke to any of us during the very small amount of time that she was awake. She stared straight ahead and shifted back and forth trying to get comfortable. She seemed annoyed with our steady stream of questions.

When I got to her house around lunch time, I asked her to go eat with us. She reluctantly agreed and even went to her room to get dressed. It was very obvious that she didn't feel like leaving the house. "Mom, if you don't feel like going, you don't have to..." I said. " I really don't", she replied softly. I was heart broken. I thought I was about to have her back for a little while. Then as I was putting the girl's in their car seats, from the front porch she said "we ought to take the girls on our little trip tomorrow...or today.." I looked at her. She was absolutely pitiful. "Mom, it's not going to be the same if your miserable. I want you to feel good when we go". She said nothing. I kept waiting for "I'm fine, let's go!", but it never came. I secretly wondered if it ever would. I took the girls to eat lunch with their daddy at Shipleys. Then, we headed back to her house for the girl's nap time. She never woke up when we got there. In fact, I don't know if she would have woke up, had I not shook her.

For the next couple of hours she was awake, but a far cry from being "my mama". She was lost in her pain. Pain that she was trying so hard to hide from me. The kids know something is up. They have been very affectionate with her. More so than usual (and that's alot). I stay on top of them because I am so scared they will hurt her accidentally. Neva missed her nap today and was very ill. At one point, every little thing was making her cry. I made her go into the play room (my old bedroom) to lay down and calm down a bit. A few minutes later, mama was missing. She was in there laying with Neva. I don't know what was said or done. I just know Neva came out better than she went in. That felt good to see. It was the only glimpse of my "real mama" that I saw all day, until Michael took the girls home.

I decided to stay and keep an eye on her until Ronnie got home from a banquet. She seemed happy that I stayed, but still told me that I shouldn't have. "It makes me feel guilty when you leave your girls for me" she said. "I assure you mama, they would RATHER be with their daddy, than me". I tried to ease her mind. I cried and told her how scared I was. "Is this how it happens?" I asked her through my tears....."I don't know" she said. "This is new to all of us". I was glad she was awake and talking to me (these are both now considered luxuries). She held my hand and periodically wiped my tears away. "Where all are you hurting? Why don't you want me to call anyone?" I asked. This wasn't the first time I have asked these questions in the last few days....I just hoped to get a straight forward answer this time. "I am hurting in my side, in my stomach, in my neck and in my back" she admitted. "If you call Hospice, they are just going to up my medicine, and I don't want that. I promise, if it gets worse, I will call them tomorrow. I just want you to calm down. I want you to trust me. I told you I would be here when the baby was born, and nobody believed me". "But mama", I interrupted "She's not here yet" I reminded her. "I WILL be here. I told you that, and I will be. And I am fine right now. Believe me. I am just really tired". She spoke strongly. It was nice to hear her like that. "Is this fatigue something you think you need to fight, or do you think you really need the rest?" I asked. I know that only SHE knows the answer to this question. "I think it's helping me", she responded. I have to accept that answer. I have no reason to think otherwise. If she needs the sleep, I have to allow her to get it, within reason. I cried for a bit longer. We hugged and talked for a while. Then, she went back to her room to try and get comfortable. She knew I was "babysitting her" and didn't like it, but understood why.

When Ronnie got home, we talked very frankly about the situation. My aunts are pushing for more treatments, more opinions, more locations.....But we know with all of our hearts, that even a small dose of chemo right now would kill mama. We are in complete agreement about that fact. She's just too weak. She is quick to say that she feels way better with the chemo out of her system. I believe if she had continued with the chemo, she would not be with us right now.  But, none the less, she is very tired and frail from just fighting the cancer. Ronnie cried and I cried as we wondered if she would be here next week, or the next. I missed my little brother during this heartfelt conversation. Unfortunately, he was working. He confided in me before he left that he was scared that "something would happen to mom" while he was gone. At the time, I thought it wasn't a possibility. Now, I see that her condition can literally flip like a switch.

Before I left, we both went back to her room. She sleepily kissed us both and hugged us with her bony little body. "I love y'all so much" she said groggily. I hugged and kissed her several more times before actually leaving.

I cried hysterically the whole way home. I found my car pulling into the yard of my mother in law and father in law. I walked up to their porch and was literally greeted with open arms. I just couldn't go home in that shape. I didn't want the girls to see me. I cried while sitting in their living room. They listened. They offered to help any way that they could. Unfortunately, no one can help me now.

 I just hope, with all of my heart, that tomorrow is different. I hope she will wake up and we will be on our way somewhere, or we will be in the yard, or we will be tickling the kids and giggling in her bed. Anything. I hope my mama comes back. Back like she was just last week! I'll gladly take that. With all of my tears, I sure hope that Hope Floats.