Mom was coming for lunch on Wednesday. Instead I got a call that she was in an ambulance rushing to hospital, with either a pulmonary embolism or a heart attack. Either's bad news - on top of fibrosing alveolitis and epmhysema it seemed fatal. So Wednesday was thinking Mom was dying - a thought she shared herself.
In fact the diagnosis was a punctured lung. So far she's suffered three operations without anaesthetic, inserting tubes to draw out the air. Yesterday the air had ballooned her eyes so much they were swollen shut.
And still she's cracking jokes, having her say. It's sad to know she's in such pain. Empowering to see such a force of Nature as Mom at work. And endearing to have her converse with you while on a morphine trip. Ghostly visitors, some with wings, come and stand by her bed just as we are doing and she conceives of me as sitting high on a shelf somewhere. Perhaps I am. A scruffy young spirit kid came on a visit yesterday. This world is a strange, awesome and powerful place.