tuesday

Today was a hard day.

Mom woke up feeling great. She had energy and was moving easily around the house this morning. It was a pretty day outside, even if it was another ozone alert, and I don’t really know when things changed.

Mom woke me up a little after 2 because we had a meeting at my brother’s life college. He’s been doing great recently, and the faculty decided he could handle living on his own. He’s been chosen to be the first resident in a new program, and it starts the beginning of November. He called yesterday, audibly bouncing off the walls about the meeting, moving, getting his own place.

Mom’s so proud.

The meeting was long, and the main speaker talked. A lot. Every point on the agenda was covered. In detail. An hour and a half later, we still had a couple of points left to discuss. That’s when mom had a seizure. She’d asked for water before we started, then caught the eye of one of the faculty members to ask for something to eat.

They knew she’d “not been feeling well,” so were very solicitous. When she asked for food, someone slipped off, quickly returning with some crackers, lunch meat, and an orange.

It wasn’t a bad seizures, as far as seizures go. Her blood sugar dropped, her mood swung. She didn’t lose consciousness, no serious damage was done to her or anything else.

But it took the rest of the day for her to recover. The meeting wrapped quickly, with questions of about what else could be done to help her.

She was tired and sensitive, drained and frustrated.

We were supposed to get our toes done, and then go to this funky diner for dinner. But with her pale and shaky, all I could think was getting her food. The drive seemed to take forever, and I felt clumsy and incapable when I missed a turn.

She picked at her food, looking small, like she was fading every time I looked at her too long. We talked about nothing, incomplete thought just lingering at the table.

Afterwards we went out for ice cream from another local place. She consumed a hot fudge sundae like she’d never been fed before, and it helped.

Except this vile idea that she is entering a second childhood haunts me whenever I see her not as healthy and energetic as I wish she were. It clings, making me wish I had the time to cry.

But tomorrow could be a harder day… I can cry after it's over.