le weekend

Saying goodbye was emotional and difficult. All morning, she asked me when I was leaving. I kept repeating, “There’s still plenty of time. Plenty of time.” And then it was 1:45, fifteen minutes before I would leave for the airport, and my mom started sobbing: “You’re leaving so soon.” I answered, “There’s still plenty of time. Plenty of time.” And she started crying more, saying, “Get there safely. Go.” Again and again. I held her and helped her wipe her tears, holding back my own until I left the room, when I, my aunt, and my dad, all broke down. I left seven minutes earlier than we had planned.

Last night, she had a fever of 101.7. It abated toward the morning, only to return again a few hours later. She has no appetite. For lunch, she ate a couple spoons of cottage cheese with a couple slices of mango ... just enough so she wouldn’t get nauseous when she took her antibiotic. She walks in very slow steps, sometimes with help and sometimes without. Climbing back into bed is always a challenge. Sitting up in bed once she’s lying down (never completely ... I think it’s been months since she’s slept flat on her back) is also a challenge. Her breath is so quick. When I watch her sleeping, I’ll try matching my breath to hers and then I feel guilty and sad because such experiments--what a luxury.

Medically, I have no idea about what to say. Over the summer, all the medication had a clear purpose and a clear goal. Everything seemed so concrete. I knew that albumin infusions would help compensate for her failing liver. I knew that blood pressure medication would help to reverse the damage done to her heart. I knew that some regular walking would help to strengthen her lungs. Nothing works the same anymore. Aside from the lasix (which does seem to be helping the edema in her legs and feet), all the medication seems to be necessary, but also counterproductive. And the recommendations (eat, exercise) seem like mockery.

I helped her put her clothes on yesterday. One foot at a time. Hooked her bra for her. Dried her hair. And now I’m home again. And I wrote most of this entry on the plane, where I had time to change words and sentences around. I think I may have deleted some stuff, too. Strange way of feeling like I’m in control.

Also, she now calls me "Miss Lotus-face" or just "Lotus" for short.