Serendipity

I must have been on the phone for hours yesterday. Instant messages and emails were clogging my phone.

We had a plan. A little breathing room for us and some more Jerry Springer for Mom. Next Tuesday, we were going to see some magic. A brilliant surgeon was going to add 20+ years to Mom's life.

A light afternoon created some time to blog and I hammered away at the previous post.

Not even one minute after I published "Hurray up and Wait," and turned off the computer, my phone rang. It was Marty. The cardiologist had just called and said that he was going to do the surgery on Friday morning. THIS FRIDAY!

Moms congestive heart failure trumped everything.

So, we are to be at the hospital at 8:00 am.

The rest of the evening was spent making sure that all of the last minute items were complete. Steve came over to Moms to spend the night and make sure that she rested.

Mom struggled. Her breaths were shallow and labored. Generally, she looked exhausted.

Steve, Marty and I sat in her living room and watched here fade in and out of sleep in her big yellow chair. Mom talked to all of her Grandchildren. All wished her luck and sent their love. Nathan was even so bold to proclaim---"I'm 100% sure that your gonna make it, Gramma."

Sweat pants, blanket and some nice warm slippers. One of her cats curled up by her head. We whispered our conversations and had a glass of wine. Avoiding any morbid subjects.

We decided that before Christmas, we would take Mom to Biltmore and see the Christmas lights and a candlelight tour of the house. A trip to St. Croix in the late winter was also planned.

Marty and I left at about 10.

It's always strange to sleep in a house that is not your own. Steve could barely sleep for the unfamiliar noises. Ice maker, an archaic heat system bellowing every few minutes and two jet-black cats that seldom had visitors stay the night, meant that Steve would hardly sleep.

He had to get up and rub Moms back the middle of the night. She was restless and fought for a breath when she lay prone. The big, yellow chair was the only place she could rest, sitting up, and surrounded by her jet-black, feline guardians.