I’ve been sitting here at the computer for one and a half hours. Thinking: I don’t have much to say even though so many things are going on in my mind. I think my Mother’s dying. Not that existential boo hoo crap, really dying. Pain, weakness, she’s going down. I sound like a total @sshole just sitting here and writing. Maybe I am. I just really don’t know what to do. I attend to her.
“Hey Ma, did you take some tylenol?”
“Want something to drink?”
“Are you comfortable?”
“How about a water bottle for your belly?”
There’s not much I can do and the panic climbs in my belly and clutches the bottom of my eyelids. I almost cry. Thankfully I go numb when I’m not doing something. Right now I’m avoiding going upstairs to bed. I won’t sleep. I’m afraid to. What if she dies and I didn’t hear her groan in pain? I listen for her footsteps as I sit in the office. The cats come in here and rub against my leg. I wonder if I’ll have to take them when she’s gone. It makes me sick to my soul to think these things but I’m practical. I want to be prepared. I will have to move. The house will be sold. My childhood demolished and my life transformed into worse poverty than when I was homeless. I feel like I deserve it all because I sit here and pound the keyboard.
That’s what happens when I allow my brain a moment to reflect.
I’ll go upstairs. Carrying the laundry I took off the line and folded I’ll distribute it to the rooms they belong to. I’ll leave the circulars on my bed so I can plan the shopping list that Mom was too weak to make Friday night. I’m not falling apart`, I’m imploding. When I stop I become immobilized, powerless and useless. And our lives, our family is whirling down and down the drain. I’m so afraid I’m going to end up in the hospital a mess.
Today a person texted me, a person I told I wouldn’t answer my phone. They know I’m going through this situation right now. Did I write about this already? They were put out by my not having time because they “needed to talk.” I’m flummoxed. I don’t get it. I mean maybe I do. She’s up again. I’m going upstairs.
I’m writing to survive. I don’t want advice. Goodnight may you sleep in peace.