I am sitting in my mother's hospital room, hanging out as she snoozes away, waiting for yet another test to make sure that there are no rogue gallstones that did not catch their scheduled ride with Glinda Gall Bladder when she made her exit a few weeks ago. It turns out Pandora Pancreas is the bitch in the neighborhood.
I could write a novel on my mom's fight, but it would be from a distant third person perspective. She has fought more battles with cancer and her own health my entire adult life and I was living in NYC and the UK the entire time. Now, I am living close by and we are all trying help out and keep her company as we decide how to get Pandora's nasty attitude under control.
I am learning about pain management and enzymes and potential complications like diabetese and pancreatic cancer although I think she has kicked cancer's ass so many times I doubt there is a cancer cell left within 100 miles of her.
My husband and I are talking about a move back closer to his family, which will take me far away again and I ok with that now, but I know I will miss her and my dad when it happens.
Enough for now, the moving talk gives me hives and has me stealing mom's morphine pills.