My One and Only Mother

Today was the worst day of my mother's life. The shear abundance of excursion put on her shrinking body is unimaginable. Every breathing treatment taxes her system to a point of near collapse. Some of them take over three hours before she even begins to feel relief. This is all in spite of the morphine I put under her tongue 24/7.

Mom no longer wants to move. At all. "My body hurts all over," she says, aloud. This is the first time I have ever heard her complain. Her courage continues to amaze me. Would I ever be so strong? Could I ever be as courageous as my mother? I doubt it. How could anyone be?

Tonight was a very long night. Mom continuously bore an inconceivable amount of pain in spite of the tremendous amount of medication I gave her. Nothing seemed to help. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to witness in all of my life. My mother's never ending suffering. I am losing my one and only mother as each second passes. I cry, yet feel humbled and honored to be here with her. Helping my mother during this end stage of her life is the very last thing I will ever do for her. To help her now is a gift from God that I will never be able to repay. Regardless of the pain, I will treasure this time with her forever and a day.

I was wrong when I said there "was nothing more I could do for my mother." Now I realize my role. I am here to see that she gets the proper doses of medication at the proper times; to comfort her; to bathe her fragile skin; to apply lip balm to her dry, blistered lips; to help her take a cool drink of water; to hand feed her if she will eat (a bite or two); to hold her hand; to lie in bed with her; to make her to smile (even now); to simply love her.

My one and only mother.