Day 196: I hope I'm wrong

God, I so hope I'm wrong! I hope that the pain in mom's back that is keeping her up at night is actually just a strained muscle from weeding. It's what dad wants to believe. It's what Michael wants to believe. But my gut is telling me that's not what this is. And hospice is telling me the same thing.

A little back story on this week. On Sunday mom went out and did about an hour of weeding. She came in and was hurting and realized she can't do things she used to do. She had some aches for a couple of days but nothing major. Then Wednesday morning I called her and could instantly hear something was up. She said she wasn't very good and that she hadn't slept much because her back was really hurting. She sounded exhausted. She said she had finally taken an anti-anxiety pill early in the morning and got some sleep with that, but she really sounded uncomfortable and distressed. I suggested she call Hospice and she said they were planning to do that. Then the day went on and I checked in again and mom sounded better. They hadn't called Hospice and were going to see how Wednesday night went. Dad bought some Tylenol PM for mom. He had a once-a-year Kiwanis event to go to and originally wasn't going to go, but finally decided to go since mom was feeling better. I told them to call me in the middle of the night if necessary.

This morning I called at 9am and mom answered the phone pretty groggy. Turns out she was still in bed which isn't like her at all. She had another bad night. She said they'd be calling Hospice today. Their nurse, Ruth came by around 11am and showed dad how to administer the morphine and gave mom a half dose which did nothing for her pain. Then they gave her another half dose and Ruth gave dad a prescription for Oxycontin to pick up for mom.

As I received all this information from mom and dad, I couldn't compose myself on the phone. Mind you, I cry a lot after getting off the phone with mom, but I try not to let she or dad hear it on the phone. I couldn't help it today. Dad said they weren't trying to make me cry, but just wanted me to know what was going on. I told them I've been crying for 6 months now and that I wanted to know everything. Dad said that Ruth thought that maybe the cancer has spread or mom's tumor has grown considerably. That was my concern as well.

But then dad said that maybe it's just some back pain. I had a hard time reconciling the idea of Oxycontin and Morphine for some regular back pain, but I didn't say that. I called and spoke to Ruth myself later this afternoon. We talked for some time. She said anything is possible, but that she doesn't feel like this is just back pain. We discussed how we go forward making mom comfortable. How we keep increasing the dosage until we find the one that keeps her comfortable, but perhaps not lucid. I told her I was worried about my dad and that I felt like my brother and I needed to talk to him about how he wants to handle all this. And she told me, "I think now is the time to talk." I keep hearing that sentence reverberating in my head.

I called Michael after I spoke to Ruth and we both decided that we'll make a trip to mom and dad's on Sunday. Mom and dad were supposed to drive up and see Michael & Kiersten on Sunday but that doesn't seem like it's going to happen so we're changing plans.

Today, I also picked up the cd with all the 8mm films on it. I sat in front of my computer and cried for about an hour. I had never seen some of those films. They date back to 1964. Both sets of grandparents are on it. Lots of family. Lots of me and Michael. But the ones that really got to me were films of parties and dancing and I saw my mom and dad in their late 20s and in love. I saw my dad look at my mom the way I saw him look at her two weeks ago at the hospital. Did I just miss those looks all these years? Did I not see them because they are my parents? To sit and stare at my young parents dancing on my computer was both lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. How does my dad say goodbye to her??? How are they doing this?

And today Olly left until Sunday. His sister is getting married on Saturday. I'm supposed to drive over to Moses Lake for the wedding and come straight back. I haven't decided if I'm going to go or not. I'm going to see how tomorrow plays out. I had to teach tonight and I don't remember the drive there or back. I hardly remember class. I don't know about me driving for 6 hours with my kids in the car. But I'll make that decision sometime tomorrow.

Tonight I have no desire to sleep. I'm just going to sit up and watch TV. Possibly with a glass of wine. On top of all of this, I have papers due and a client due and I'm feeling wiped out and overwhelmed. I just want the rest of the world to stop so I can be with my mom. Why doesn't it work that way? How do we just keep going? I was sitting at the birth center tonight, putting labels on dividers in a 3 ring notebook and I thought to myself, "how can I sit here and do such a mundane task while my mom may be in pain?" It doesn't make sense. I'm sitting here right now wondering if mom is sleeping or suffering. Wondering if my dad is sleeping or trying to get my mom out of pain. I told them to call me. Mom promised she would, but I know they don't want to worry me. So, tonight I sit up alone with much on my mind and nothing I can do about any of it right this minute.

And all I keep thinking is how I hope I am wrong. How I have never before in my life wanted to be so wrong.