The Most Wonderful Day

As my mother's cancer marches on toward the now-inevitable end, the family and friends are surrounding her with as much love as possible without smothering her or making her feel like her last gasp is near. My youngest son, Mom's second grandson, visited this week, along with former neighbors and a continuous stream of friends from the senior community where they live now.

At the end of one day filled with visitors and constant distractions, Mom said, "This has been the most wonderful day!" to which I responded, "Mom, we want every day to be wonderful for you."

On another afternoon this week, Sis and her partner, along with Dad and myself, were stuffed in Mom's little room. Mom said, "It feels so good to have all my family around."

Of course, we can't be there every minute. On two mornings this week, when I went to Mom's room around breakfast time, I found her in tears. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again," she cried on one occasion. The next time I found her in tears she was frustrated because no one was around to help her eat breakfast. The aide hadn't propped her up enough for her to feed herself and swallow safely. Though she had tried to call for help, she felt like she had been abandoned.

Into this mix of wonderful days and those filled with panic and fear, we have introduced a hospice team to help us provide Mom the comfort she needs. We were concerned that the word "hospice" would set off a panic attack, but Mom has seemed grateful for the extra attention and care. And we are hoping the hospice team will be able to help us prepare Dad for Mom's death and all the changes that will follow.

Sue