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01-23-2004
Jan. 23rd, 2004 09:40 amSigh.
What do you say when your mother is lying in a hospital bed, shaking, and holding on the the sheets like they're the only thing keeping her anchored to this earth. She's asleep right now. Sort of. She's not really concious, but she's aware of things. Sort of. She just lays there and shakes. She keeps taking the IV's out and pulling the oxygen out of her nose. The hospital staff are baffled. I'm not. She's trying to come home. In all likelyhood she won't make it passed the middle of next week. Her kidney has shut down. Her organs are riddled with cancer. Her liver and tongue are swollen, but she still won't give up. When she was still able to talk she said she'd fight to the bitter end. She still is. When I saw her this morning I leaned over her when my sister left the room for a minute. I could only say one thing through the tears.
"Let go. Let go and go to sleep. Please."
What do you say when your mother is lying in a hospital bed, shaking, and holding on the the sheets like they're the only thing keeping her anchored to this earth. She's asleep right now. Sort of. She's not really concious, but she's aware of things. Sort of. She just lays there and shakes. She keeps taking the IV's out and pulling the oxygen out of her nose. The hospital staff are baffled. I'm not. She's trying to come home. In all likelyhood she won't make it passed the middle of next week. Her kidney has shut down. Her organs are riddled with cancer. Her liver and tongue are swollen, but she still won't give up. When she was still able to talk she said she'd fight to the bitter end. She still is. When I saw her this morning I leaned over her when my sister left the room for a minute. I could only say one thing through the tears.
"Let go. Let go and go to sleep. Please."