Day 32

The ugly just got uglier.

For over 30 hours, Mom has not spoken a word. She has not used the bathroom. She has only been awake for a half hour total.

Several people in the hospice room tend to irritate Mom. Too many conversations to keep up with.

Bright light makes Mom uneasy. So I keep only one lamp turned on in the room.

She's barely opening her mouth of her medication. Mom is not eating.

Too many questions seem to confuse Mom. I feel like her mind races when given more than one option. So simple yes and no questions are asked. And Mom nods yes if she agrees.

That's the only communication Mom has with us.

I spend all day at hospice, hoping Mom will open her eyes at least one more time.

The nurse practioner says this is just another sign of decline. But he can't tell my family how much longer Mom may have. He says she's not "typical." She's too young to show "normal" signs.

No, Mom's not typical. She's a wife. She's a mom. Mom is an oncology nurse. She is a God-fearing woman who volunteers her time and generously shares her money with the Church. Mom's life is being cut short tragically by a tumor we didn't ask for. Mom lived a healthy life without alcohol or tobacco only to be hit with a cancer that cannot be controlled.

No, Mom's not typical.

And this all sucks.