Fettered

As promised, this will be the post about how things were at home in Wynnewood. I honestly can't talk about my mom without leaking salty wetness from my eyes. I am broken. I just can't say it any better than that.

On this visit, my main concern was that my dad was NOT his usual cheerful self. For several days he seemed tired and run down and (dare I say it... depressed?) just not HIMSELF. He is a diabetic and I am constantly concerned about that aspect of his health. But on this trip, the problem turned out to be two-fold: 1) he was having back pain from the labors of caring for Mom and 2) he sustained a Fiddleback spider bite. Obviously the spider bite was the primary concern. His lower leg swelled up and he got this HUGE clear blister on his leg. I begged him to go to the emergency room while I stayed home with the boys and with mom. I swear the man was stubborn enough to argue with me. Thankfully he was a big ol' wimp when it came to Alec's tears. Alec cried all over Poppa Jim and a few minutes later Dad loaded up and drove to the hospital. Hours later he arrived back home and then began the long process of healing: vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness, headache, and other loveliness. He was so incredibly sick.

When the boys and I came back through Oklahoma about a week later, Dad was doing MUCH better. He was still only eating chicken noodle soup and some saltines and I swear he'd lost about 10 pounds, but his attitude was better. He enjoyed the boys and that is what I needed to see.

So... about Mom. Well, she is completely bedridden. She sleeps about 20 hours or more each day. Sometimes I think she would sleep nonstop if it weren't for my dad's persistence. He wakes her up for meals and then talks to her until she slips back under again. Sometimes she awakens from what must be bad dreams and just cries. Tears flow from her eyes while she stares sightlessly up at the ceiling. When that happens he comes to her and soothes her and brushes her hair and tells her how pretty it is. Oh my goodness. I'm crying again.

Her meals consist of applesauce, gelatin, yogurt, and ice cream. She chokes often, especially when drinking, and I know it won't be long until she is unable to eat or drink and will have to be given a feeding tube.

While I was home we spent a lot of time reading to her. Zach read a Magic Treehouse book to her. I read about three other children's chapter books and Alec liked when I read picture books to her (and to him) so we read dozens of them. Every time she awakened for even a few minutes we read. I also talked to her when I was in the house alone with her and told her that I would take care of Dad when she felt like it was time to leave. I can feel her holding onto him. It's the strangest thing. She can't talk, she can't walk, she can't even feed herself, but she knows him. She loves him.

My brother and sister-in-law were in town for a couple of days while we were there too. My mom's eyes followed my brother when he was in the room. She seems to recognize him, or possibly she sees the similarites between my brother and my father.

I don't know how much longer she'll be on this earth. I can't imagine it will be much longer, but with this disease it is best to expect the unexpected. I sometimes imagine that the fetters that are binding her to this earth are ugly, rusty chains. But I know they are more likely chains of love and longing. My boys have started talking a lot about heaven and about what it will be like there. I know this sudden interest is because I've mentioned Grandmom going to heaven when she is finished here on earth, when she is set free.

Alec asked last night if there would only be wine to drink and bread to eat in heaven. I told him I couldn't imagine a heaven without chocolate ice cream because that is my favorite and his favorite and Grandmom's favorite. He seemed content with that answer, but later asked me if Grandmom would be able to walk again in heaven. It is always on my heart and mind, and obviously the boys are thinking about her a lot too.

Peace. I'm praying for it. I am praying for the kind of peace that unfetters the soul.