It’s been over a week since Mom was released from the hospital the second time around. Her breathing is much better, and her appetite has returned which makes eating a much easier task. In other news, Mom is still in bed 24/7, unable to walk, but her muscle pain is getting less and less. She managed to turn by herself, although somebody stops by to turn her every 1 1/2 hours to avoid more pressure sores from staying on the same spot for too long. I’ve noticed that Mom looks at peace now and her face has softened as if the storm clouds disappeared. Her gaze is loving and appreciative, and although she still struggles to verbalize her emotions, there is a silent understanding between us that doesn’t require words. Her smile says it all when she sees me, and won’t allow her to hide anything. I have no trouble staying all day, next to her bed, passing time with her. Even if she sleeps, and I sit here and watch. She knows I’m here and it is all that matters. I know it might be hard to understand for some that I stay hours and hours at a time, and today I felt a little like “Hachi”. He was a famous, loyal Shiba Inu, that kept waiting and returning back to his owner in Japan. I’m not sure why I referenced myself to this dog, other than it being my favorite breed and the loyalty of such. I think I have definitely proven my loyalty to Mom by being here, not that this was ever a point that needed to be made. Actually, I take that last statement back, and perhaps it was exactly what Mom needed to see. In her mind, and with me leaving her behind (according to her statement), I’m sure she must have thought that she was never the priority, that I always choose others before her. Being here now and leaving my life as I knew it behind, might have proven otherwise to her, and was just what she needed.
I watched Mom sleep the other day and for the first time she appeared at peace. No twitching, no whining and moaning, she simply looked restful and quiet. It felt like a break from the demons that seemed to haunt her over all these years.