It's a rainy Friday, the one before Mother's Day.
I'm at home trying my best to focus on work while also staring at my mom sitting on our couch in pain. Although if you asked her if she was in pain, she may subtly roll her eyes and say, "oh, it's just a little discomfort probably from my bed, the dew point, sitting too long." Then she'll smile.
She's tough.
She's also barely eaten anything since she moved in. Every time we eat, or talk about making a meal, she'll muster up some energy and say, "oh, I guess I should have something, too." Whether we cook, warm something up, or order in, she'll enthusiastically agree to whatever it is. Then she'll pick at it, move the food around with her fork, and may take a couple bites. She'll smile.
She's tough.
As petite as she is, her weight loss is noticeable. It's really noticeable when I hug her, which I try to do multiple times a day. She's fragile but she'll hold on for as long as you'll let her. I take a deep smell of her scent, always Moonlight Path from Bath & Body Works. Always. I try to be gentle as I pull away, very slowly. She has a bruise on her forehead from when she fell into the hall closet on Saturday after becoming lightheaded. "I'm fine, just adjusting from the brightness from outside."
She's tough.
On Tuesday the doctor warned she may have a sore throat and may even cough up some blood. If it's a lot of blood, go the to the ER. She seemed fine until Thursday when a very phlegmy cough started after we went for a very slow walk along Wilde Lake. She needed to get out and I want her to be able to find some joy in every day. We sat more than we walked. We listened to the birds and used the Merlin app to identify nearly 15 different birds. She smiled. "The cough is just from the pollen and my sinuses."
She's tough.
I have watched her fill out paperwork at several doctor's visits and answer lots of questions over the phone for telemedicine appointments. She says "No" when asked about prior health concerns, physical and mental. She probably should have selected "Yes." At one appointment, a nurse asked, "on a scale from 1 to 10, how much pain are you in?" She smiled and said, "6." I know she means 8 or 9.
She's tough.
Now I know where I get it from.
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