I don’t know what day it is

My life has revolved around airports and hospitals lately. I’m wondering when I’ll get my “frequent flier card” for all the hospitals I’ve been in recently. There must be some sort of reward program, right? I should get a discount on something. A free nights’ stay, perhaps? Maybe some left over anxiety medication? A complimentary electroshock therapy session? Free food from the cafeteria? Or maybe some half-price liposuction to take care of the lumpy butt I’m sporting thanks to all the inactivity? But no. I get nothing.

Don’t worry. I haven’t completely lost my mind. This is just my strange sense of humor trying to get me through watching my mother suffer through the bout of strokes and heart attacks she’s recently had. If not for the mad inner-workings of the thing I loosely qualify as a “brain” I would be a quivering mass of jell-o on the floor.

My sister and I were in Central Ohio trying to help out our dad in getting mom settled into some sort of nursing home. Things deteriorated so quickly for mom over the last few weeks that we’ve now made plans for her to move into a nursing home with hospice care. Hospice care. End of life care.

This is the end of my mother’s life.

That is completely overwhelming to me. Just weeks ago she was her old self. Now she can barely open her eyes and often doesn’t recognize who we are. Then there are moments of clarity that make me believe she’ll miraculously recover only to be dashed by her having some sort of hallucination.

She told me that her mother is coming to get her soon. Her mother died in 1968.

My mother and I haven’t always had the smoothest relationship. I will readily admit to that. But to think that her life is coming to a close – well – I just don’t know what to do with that information. It doesn’t seem possible or real. And, unfortunately, I can’t give her my all because Ben has scans and 3F8 coming up. My concern is that she is going to die while Ben and I are in NYC and there won’t be a thing I can do about it. I won’t be able to leave Ben. I won’t be able to attend her service. I won’t be able to say goodbye.

So, I’ll just have to keep up the charade that I have a normal life while everything around me crumbles. So much stress, so little time, right? I’m afraid that I’ll get to the point of not being able to compartmentalize everything and explode like a roll of Pillsbury biscuits. All you’ll hear is a loud pop followed by the contents of my head oozing out from between the cracks. The main difference is that my contents come pre-baked. They are complete toast.

Ah, I should stop here. Gotta pack. Maybe that will keep my mind off of the craziness that surrounds me. I’m not entirely sure what I’m packing for, which makes for a lot of baggage. I could fill an entire Airbus A380 (a real, real big plane) with all my baggage.

This trip is going to cost a flippin’ fortune in baggage fees.

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