6/20/10
Finally, we've made it to the last stage of Mom's life. We just moved her into Aurora's Zilber Hospice in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. This beautiful room overlooking a lovely patio, complete with finch feeder will be her final resting spot here on earth. Although the nurses at St. Luke's were wonderful, I'm glad to get away from the beeping, interrupting, stressful atmosphere of the hospital. It's quiet here, just the bubbling of the oxygen humidifier to lull us to sleep. (I'm beginning to love that sound! Might need to check into something that bubbles for my bedroom.) Mom's resting comfortably, and seems in a much better mood today. They gave her a transfusion yesterday, so she got a little "boost" to help her make the transition comfortably. She's a little more talkative today. I got to ask her the "what year did you get married?" question as well as "tell me your father's first name again?"Though I'm sure it won't be long, only the Lord knows when she'll get to go Home. I hope to enjoy these days with her, no matter how much time is left.
6/9/10
So glad
Anyone out there remember Carol Burnette's show-ending jingle, "I'm so glad we've had this time together...just to have a laugh or sing a song. Seems we just get started and before you know it...comes the time we have to say 'so long.'" ?? It's been a whirlwind few months, back and forth from Omaha to Milwaukee just about every other week. I've jokingly said that I go to clean out the refrigerator in each location. I've also said, "I need to leave...there's no more food at this house!"
So here I am, back in Milwaukee, only this trip finds me in Room 12127, the south tower of St. Luke's Hospital. Mom is on oxygen, breathing shallowly. Leukemia cells seem to have multiplied in the last few weeks. This stinks. I hate that she has to go. Yet I know I'll see her some day, and she'll get to celebrate with Jesus. No more tears, sorrow, anxious moments, or worries. Just peace. And love. And joy. All things will be good. But for now, it stinks.
Tonight I'm sitting all alone in the living room. I didn't catch the cooking shows today, or repeats of the news and weather, or tonight's reruns of NCIS. In fact, I was almost tempted to turn on the news, but I watched it a few times in the hospital this afternoon. I'm guessing nothing has changed. Yet, as I ponder about this time, I'm thankful that all the grandchildren got to make the trip to spend time with their Grammy. I'm thankful that baby Johanna got to meet her great-grandmother. I'm thankful for all the times we had together, especially these last few months. God has given me lots and lots of memories, and allowed us to walk through this time together as a family. I'm so glad.
So here I am, back in Milwaukee, only this trip finds me in Room 12127, the south tower of St. Luke's Hospital. Mom is on oxygen, breathing shallowly. Leukemia cells seem to have multiplied in the last few weeks. This stinks. I hate that she has to go. Yet I know I'll see her some day, and she'll get to celebrate with Jesus. No more tears, sorrow, anxious moments, or worries. Just peace. And love. And joy. All things will be good. But for now, it stinks.
Tonight I'm sitting all alone in the living room. I didn't catch the cooking shows today, or repeats of the news and weather, or tonight's reruns of NCIS. In fact, I was almost tempted to turn on the news, but I watched it a few times in the hospital this afternoon. I'm guessing nothing has changed. Yet, as I ponder about this time, I'm thankful that all the grandchildren got to make the trip to spend time with their Grammy. I'm thankful that baby Johanna got to meet her great-grandmother. I'm thankful for all the times we had together, especially these last few months. God has given me lots and lots of memories, and allowed us to walk through this time together as a family. I'm so glad.
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