Monday, February 7, 2011

She looks small in her bed. I guess hospital beds do that to everyone. But I can see her smile when we open the door.


I rush over to her, and then I worry--how to hold her.

"Come here! I'm still breathin'."

I fold my arms around her carefully.

On the drive in, Becky explained that they've admitted her for surgery. Somehow, that timing worked out--they're in town right when I arrive.

"And the surgery isn't dangerous," Becky had added. "It's routine--I mean, as much as this gets."

After the surgery, Mom will have chemo, so it makes sense to stay in town for a while.

"What about a hospital closer to home--Olympia, or Vancouver?" I'd asked.

"These guys are the best," Becky declared. I couldn't argue with that.

Now my sister went out in the hallway to call her family, and I had time to really sit with my mother, to look at her and to try to see how she'd changed since her trip to Oslo.

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