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2002-06-26
Limited Drama
The visit home wasn't as traumatic as I thought it would be.

In fact, it probably hindered my acceptance process, because mom looked freaking great. Seriously. She's the thinnest I've ever seen her, which was a little hard to get used to. But once I had registered her shrunken appearance, I had a hard time remembering how sick she was. She just looked great - bald, but with bright eyes and that quick smile. She's walking around better than I've seen in a while. Yes, I'm harboring an unrealistic, unhealthy bit of hope that she'll pull through. But only a little bit, and I'm not talking about it.

Mom looked so good, that because I'm a morbid, morbid fuck, I even joked around with her a little that if she's going to make this big deal about how she's dying and all, and all these people are going to line up to come and see her, the least she could do is look like she's dying. Sheesh.

And people are lining up, for "one last time." Also hard to be around. She's got a schedule, though, and I think the visitors make her really happy.

We just hung out Friday night and most of Saturday. Talked and laughed, and I held her for a while when she was curled up in bed. It was also hard to feel how small she is.

Saturday afternoon, I decided I would give her a manicure. She chose a bright red, and I got to work. Mom is on a medication cocktail everyday - she isn't even sure what all she's downing. But one of those pills is doing something to her fingernails. They're growing really fast, and really, really strong. Weird, huh? That manicure took forever. But her hands looked great when I was done.

Sunday, Mom, my sisters and I sat on her bed and looked through boxes and boxes of photos. Dad wants us to make a collage for her funeral. I don't know, guys. It was fun sorting through all those memories, but still pretty depressing.

I did get to see some photos of my mom, though, that I'd never seen before. Black and white pictures of her as a very small child - baby through about 5 years old. She looks exactly, exactly the same. In fact, since she only has a little fuzzy bit of hair now, it almost looks like she's come full circle.

There was one shapshot that had a strange effect on me, and I can't pin down why. It was mom at about three years old, standing in her yard, dressed as a tiny, little bride. It was just one of those photos that jerked something inside of me - as I looked at how happy and beautiful that little girl looked, all dressed in lace, holding a bouquet, I could vividly hear and smell what was going on when that photo was taken. Mom was preening a little, and anyone around was probably laughing and "awww"ing, because she looked really cute. And every time I look at that little girl with my mother's face, I want to cry, because she has no idea that the cancer that will take her mom away from her when she's 16 years old will also finally get the better of her at age 49, after a decade of illness and fighting. When she's playing dress-up as a bride, Little Mom has no idea that her mom won't get to see her wedding, and she won't get to see any of her own three daughters get married.

It's just too much, and criminally unfair.

Saturday night, Mom and I indulged in one of our favorite activities - corny game shows on the computer. Family Feud, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy. She may be forgetful and distracted, but her brain is still pretty sharp with the trivia.

Sunday morning, before I left for the airport, I said good-bye. Quickly and uneventfully.

I'll see her tomorrow.

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