a reprieve

After last night’s high drama we are back to the anxious waiting game. Sometime around midnight last night the resident doctor came to check Mum over and pronounced all well enough under the circumstances. We had panicked when Mum, after one day of clear fluids (following almost a week nil by mouth), had vomited several times in the evening, and some of what she brought up was blood, both old and fresh. But the midnight doctor said it was all probably just a reaction to the stomach pump (which had been removed that morning); she was otherwise in good shape considering, and would stay on clear fluids.

Today she took nothing but lemonade and lemonade ice blocks, and water. She was wan and tired, but a whole lot better than she sounded last night. Now we wait till Monday morning sometime, when her very successful, rather elusive, frightfully proper oncologist will be dropping by on his rounds. He is the only one who can, or might, put a figure on how long she has left.

in the midst of life we are in death

My mother is dying. The cancer they tried to cut out, then tried to poison with massive doses of chemicals, is growing so fast it is blocking her bowel again and now she cannot take even clear fluids without bringing them back up. Surgery is no longer worth the damage it does. Chemo just isn’t working fast enough. She is running out of options, and time.

And she had so much faith.

We are preparing to gather bedside en famille, and have asked that she stay on the drip at least until her devoted only grandchild can get back from Japan.