Dental floss and other things

(Written a few days before her seizure)

Mom’s flossing her teeth again.  I swear she must own stock in Crest.  We just had a nice talk about August and mom’s initial surgery.  Actually, it was mostly me reading old journal entries I had written back when she was in the hospital.  She listened intently as I read a few of the less emotional passages.  Occasionally, I’d glance up to see her crying.  I asked if she remembered the events, and she said “ohhh, yes.”  We both laughed as we recalled one of the nurses who had a habit of banking mom’s used Wet Ones (i.e. the thing she just used to wipe mom) against the wall and into the trashcan.  Alright Air Jordan, perhaps we could save b-ball practice for after hours.

It’s nice to have a moment with her.  Dad and Diane left for Wal-Greens to pick-up mom’s chemo, leaving the two of us alone for some quality mom and daughter time.  It’s a grilled cheese and tomato soup kind of day -- just chilly enough for a light sweater.  In the past, we’d split a grilled cheese while watching OSU football and mom would hoot-and-holler like the rest of ‘em.  Now, it’s hard to get a reaction.   

Just before moving to the family room, we had been sitting at the kitchen table, with me talking in silence.    Once in our resting chairs, I asked her about talking.  She said that she didn’t have the energy for it.  Fair enough.  I mentioned that I worry sometimes when she doesn’t talk, and she replied, “I know.”  She then shut her eyes as if to say she didn’t want to talk.  Touché.  So, out of words, I’m now writing.  Just a few minutes ago, I felt someone’s eyes on me.  Sure enough, mom was watching me write.  I asked her if she ever journalled; she said no.  I told her that I rarely like to write, but that Craig and Erin journal often; it’s nice to be able to relive special moments (like the Wet Ones episode). 

At some point in the conversation, I asked her about dad and his father’s passing, and how he had handled it.  I was a little girl at the time, and remember him being “sad,” but can’t recall specific details.  In between twirling dental floss on her finger, she whispered, “that’s hard to know.”   I asked if he had changed and if he spoke to her about his feelings.  She paused and fiddled a bit more with her dental floss.  After a long silence, she said “well, you’re asking me to go deep in my memory.”  She then trailed off.  There’s no doubt that mom pre-tumor would have been able to describe that period of time.  The tumor has had some effect on her long-term memory, as well as on her emotions.  Asking her to reach back 20+ years and recall an emotional event is perhaps a bit too much. 

Later, we ventured to Barnes and Noble to pick up the latest Norah Roberts novel.  Mom once was an avid reader, but hasn’t read much since April; the tumor is now impacting her vision and attention, making reading too difficult a task.  After paying the cashier, I wheeled mom over to Starbucks for some decaf coffee, just like old times.  We used to grab a cup after hitting Hastings book store in Stillwater.  Coffee is something we still share – tumor and all.  I enjoy making her a cup every morning, even though she rarely remembers to drink it.  She’ll usually hold it in her hand until the contents become too cold to drink.  Still, she looks so happy to get a cup that I’ll continue making her one, just to see her smile – even if it is stinkin' decaf!  -- J

Entries from August:

August 23, 2007

“Should I go over there and tell them I’m dying of a brain tumor, so please quiet down.” That’s the first time I ever heard mom mention what was going on with her.  The fact she said it with such nonchalance made me realize just how much she has registered this, and in her own way.  Apart from a few quick tearful sobs, she hadn’t really addressed the fact that she has a GBM – the worst form of brain cancer.  Before this, I had wondered if the diagnosis was sinking in.  Clearly it must.  Diane mentioned earlier that mom started crying when she mentioned a conversation she had with the neuropsychologist where she discussed mom’s diagnosis.  I’m not sure what transpired, since the OT walked in just as Diane was explaining.  I’ll ask her tomorrow.  I hope mom continues to talk about her diagnosis.  The silence is worrying. 

August 24, 2007

I’m sitting at mom’s bedside, listening to her snore like I’ve done so many times over the past few weeks. Her snore is distinctive:  it starts with a few poof poofs, followed by a full on freight-train.  Then, inevitably, she’ll wake herself up, only to start the poof poofs again.  I could sit here for ages.   If only I could burn this sound into my brain, or forever retain the image of mom sleeping peacefully.   It’s interesting how one only become conscious of happiness or of someone’s true worth, just when it seems to be slipping away.  But, then again, it’s good to have this jolt, this wake-up call to what’s really important -- though I can think of more subtle ways.   The prospect of losing mom is allowing me to see her through a new lens.  Twenty-seven years in and I’m just now noticing mom’s beautiful brown eyes.  Dad says that’s why he married her.  Can’t blame him.  How the four of us ended up with blue eyes is interesting, considering brown is supposed to be dominant.  Anyhow, mom’s nurse just commented on her eyes.  She then went into a story about how she lost her mom at the age of 26 – a little too close to home for a bedtime story, thanks very much.  Still, I appreciated the sentiment.  It just goes to show how we’re not alone in this.  Mom lost her mother around my age.  The irony of our situation hasn’t gone unnoticed.  We’ve discussed her mother’s passing before, but never within the context of mom’s own illness.  I know we’ll discuss this, but in time.  We’ll make the most of the tough times ahead.  But first, we’ll let the dust settle…

August 25, 2007

I asked mom today about her childhood.  Her reply?  Well, I was a child, and then I grew up.  Classic.  She then went on to tell us about growing up in Michigan, working as a nurse, living in Pittsburgh, and meeting dad.  It’s nice to learn about mom as a woman, before all of this.