Nighttime Routines

I just kissed my mom goodnight. She is settled in her room at the hospice, and is very comfortable and doesn’t have much pain. She has very good care. My sister is sleeping in a small family room which is attached to Mom’s room tonight. It is so much more comfortable than the hospital.

When I was a little girl, our nighttime routine included Mom and Dad reading stories. I still remember Mom sitting on the floor with my sister and me one night, her mouth packed with gauze. My dad had to read the books that night because my mom couldn’t talk very well. She had just had her wisdom teeth removed.

My mom also gave my sister and me a small glass of milk right before we went to bed. She and my dad thought this was a great idea, you know, the calcium being good for your teeth, until they found out drinking milk right at bedtime could cause cavities.

Singing was another important part of bedtime. I sing songs to Lily and Emmy that Mom sang to us.

This song is one of Emmy’s favorites:

A great grey elephant;
A little, yellow bee;
A tiny purple violet;
A tall green tree;
A red and white sailboat on a blue sea;
All these things you gave to me,
When you made my eyes to see.
All these things you gave to me.
Thank you, God!

The clock at my parents’ house is chiming 10:00 p.m.; I was able to spend a lot of the day with Mom while my cousin took the girls for the day. I can’t believe I’m about to type this, but it was a good day.

We’re just taking it one day at a time.

This Is Where I Fill You All In

Little did I know when I signed up for NaBloPoMo that I would be signing up for therapy.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping, but last night wasn’t so bad. After writing on my blog, I felt better.

Some of you know that my mom’s breast cancer metastasized to her bones. Now the cancer has metastasized to her liver.

This is not good.

She is too weak to have chemotherapy. Mom told me, “I don’t want to give up.” But chemo would just make her miserable, and wouldn’t prolong her life more than a couple of months.

The doctor told my dad that it’s a matter of days and weeks, not months.

Mom is surrounded by her four children and her loving husband. She is at a wonderful hospice, whose philosophy is all about life, not death.

You may read a lot about my mom for the rest of the month. If you continue to read Lemon Drop Pie, this won’t be the happiest blog in town.

But telling you about my pain makes me sleep a little easier.

Blogging is good therapy for me. Thanks for listening.