The Roller Coaster One Week Later

The roller coaster has continued for a week now... This time a week ago I had absolutely no idea what was coming.  

In fact, last Monday night my husband and I went out to eat (a very rare thing lately). Afterward,  we went for a late night walk on our street (an even rarer thing). I don't know why,  but I remember remarking that one day this would be just a memory - this street,  this house,  this period of such pain, struggle, but many good times. 

I'm in bed with Mom right now. (It might be the last time she sleeps in her bed.) She had a big rally yesterday where she was really lucid,  wanted to eat, and actually stood up on her own. I'm thankful that I knew what to expect, but even knowing doesn't make it hard to keep in mind that she's not getting better, that it was just a blip on the road to heaven. 

It's a strange dichotomy at the moment.  I hear the pulsing noise of the oxygen concentrator while also listening to some beautiful hymns. (That i consider them beautiful still amazes me because for several decades I've hated them. But that's a story for another day.)

My husband came down a little bit ago to help Mom transfer to the bedside commode. I look around and see all of the equipment we rely on now. The bedside commode, the waterproof pads on the bed, the wheelchair, the hospital bed outside the bedroom... all reminders that she's in this stage of life. 

On one hand, I can't wait to get rid of all this stuff. On the other. I know what that means... and I'm very willing to put it off a little longer.

I'm recording and taking videos of just about everything. That's how I remember and this is a time I desperately want to remember. 

One thing I wasn't able to take video of was her getting into bed. She has a high bed with side rails. The way she gets on bed is too sit on the side, put her feet on the side rail, and push herself up. 

Every time she does it I think of that scene in the movie Titanic where Rose steps up on the rail of the boat to throw the Heart of the Ocean (I think that's its name) into the sea. I've always thought she was so beautiful in that scene, worth her wrinkled bare feet and wispy hair.

Mom is also that beautiful. She has an amazing smile that lights up a room. However, she absolutely hates her hands and feet because she has severe arthritis and they are crooked and swollen in the joints. 

I think they are beautiful. 

That reminds me of a song I'm planning to sign (my daughter will sing it) at Mom's Celebration of Life. It's called"Scars of Heaven" by Casting Crowns. It sums up Mom's life so well. I'll try to tell you more about it later, but look up the lyrics.

It's a beautiful song. 

I need to try to get to sleep. Friends and family have been and are coming to visit the next few days and it would help if I'm not exhausted. 

Good night.