On Tuesday, Doreen seemed pretty good. Fragile, but not as fragile as I had expected. On Wednesday and Thursday we went shopping for a few hours each day. My biggest accomplishment of this trip is backing their Expedition out of the garage and down the driveway without incident. On Friday, she wanted to go get pedicures after lunch… and she took her standard after-lunch nap and never got back up. We thought she might be in a coma, but she did eventually wake up after many many hours asleep. Her doting husband called Hospice, and nurses have been here ever since. She’s sleeping comfortably most of the time, and this morning her father made pancakes for breakfast. She tore into them. I think it might be one of her favorites. Yesterday (Saturday), she didn’t want anything. Nothing to eat. Nothing to drink. Then we made her a margarita and she downed that fast enough to get brain freeze. She’s been eating fairly well since then.
MoMo and Molly are here. They came in Friday night, which is a very good thing since I might have completely lost if if they hadn’t… and that’s before she really went downhill. It’s just difficult to maintain being upbeat for so long, especially for me since I’m not a very upbeat person. But I did it. I did okay, I think. At any rate, they’re leaving today and heading back to Dallas.
Now the Hospice nurses say it could be a day or a week or two weeks until she passes, and though she’s intermittently awake, I am feeling very out-of-place. I’m not afraid to be here when she dies, exactly. I just feel like an interloper, invading this family when they are so vulnerable and have gone through so much. No one here is making me feel like that. Everyone is being very welcoming and kind. I’m torn. Do I leave and give them their space? Or do I stay in case she wants me? I guess I’ll decide tonight.