I’ve nearly caught my breath, but only momentarily, of course.
My mom has been in the hospital since Sunday morning, when she went to the ER with severe stomach pain. Turns out it was gallstones.
So there was a thing yesterday and then the surgery to remove the gallbladder today, and now she is resting comfortably and we can breathe again. I sat in the room with Grandma Mary today, away from work on my lunch break, jumping everytime I heard something that sounded like a bed rolling down the hall. It wasn’t, and just as I was getting so anxious I thought I’d burst, she came back in, looking a million times better than she did on Sunday.
And I was so happy to have her back.
I’m so selfish, I know, but I’m not ready to lose her yet. (Not that I’ll ever be, but, you know…) I wore her rings yesterday and today; it’s odd that small comforts like that really do help.
When I first realized what it might feel like to not have her there anymore, I was younger, maybe still an emo-ish teenager, and I was reading some article in some magazine I would only buy once. It was about picking up the phone to call your mother and realizing that she’d never answer. Or deleting her number because it was stupid to have it in your phone becuase you’ll never be able to call it again anyway. Upon reading that, a surge pulled through me and then away, leaving an empty sucking feeling at the pit of my stomach. And from then on I realized how precious our time is.
And so I gave her the “you’re-running-out-of-spare-parts” lecture and I hope the heavens understood my true meaning.
But thank god, more than ever, for good health insurance, and for family.