She's not there anymore!

I'm telling you: Best. Nurses Ever. (Though the action in this shot is somewhat staged.)

It's not so much a roller coaster right now as it is a Freefall (to speak Rocky Point, the amusement park of my youth), followed by the haunted mansion with its moments of levity and an understanding that at any moment something will be popping up to scare the shit out of you.

That's the state of things right now. Yesterday morning I was shifting gears from deciding to stay put in NH for a few days to bombing down to the hospital because a gut-check told me it was the right thing to do. When I got there my mom looked very sick and very tired. Today, her pain finally managed and after the first good night's sleep of the week, she looks and seems much, much better. She is back home tonight; a moment of levity.

I wanted to be sure I posted this as soon as I could because I think yesterday's post may have caused some panic among my mom's loved ones (and understandably so). Five days ago when we heard the news that you all just got yesterday, I was panicked. She was panicked. (Yesterday morning, we were all still panicked.) But today, GiG is looking better and is certainly on an upswing. As my dad said, "Today doesn't look like a good day for dying." (You have to laugh or you’ll lose it.)

It doesn't erase what the oncologist said, it doesn't change the fact that my mom has cancer, but hearing her voice getting stronger today, seeing her color return, watching her get relief from pain, changes the way it all feels. Today, she doesn't look like she's dying, she looks like GiG. As my dad wrote this morning when I asked how she seemed, "Like mom---happy, upbeat." I just wanted all of you who have written to know how well she’s doing today. If you didn’t know she has cancer, you really wouldn’t know she has cancer.

Comedy arrived as we readied to leave the hospital this afternoon. They asked us if we would be interested in taking some pictures with some of the nurses (the best nurses on the planet) for a future brochure/mailer they are putting together about the hospital’s oncology program.

“Will there be a fan?” I asked, freshening up my lipstick.

Turns out when they asked the nurses which of the floor’s patients they should do the photo shoot with, all the nurses said, “Jeanne” (my mom’s real name), without hesitation. After three hospitalizations, my mom has built a relationship with every one of these women (and Eric the lone male RN whom we adore) and the photographer was shocked to see that there was such a warm rapport amongst us all that he need not conjure it as he had expected to for the photo. If we end up in any brochures, you can bet I’ll post it here. The whole thing was a friggin’ riot and the fact that my mom is so loved by the staff is just so representative of who she is; she loves and is loved back wherever she goes.



Here's the first shot we took with Patty, Nancy and Juliette (whose permission I didn't get to publish these photos...or their names...and am hoping is okay...and legally sound).



Had to include this one too because who's holding whose hand now? Huh? Huh? But in Juliette's defense (my girl crush is massive in this case as well), the photographer instructed us to do some hand-holding, which explains why my mom is getting in on the action. You'll be happy to know that I played it cool and acknowledged the awkwardness of it as soon as the photographer said it. Also, because I was a "bottom," the let-go (which is, of course, where catastrophe lurks) was not up to me, which is I think what saved me from another pinky situation.

Though we really will miss those guys, it's always good when she leaves. She belongs in her home, no matter the storm heading in.

It's bizarre how different it can all feel from day to day. I was watching the weather report with my sister Cherie tonight and we were saying how strange it is to see that tomorrow is supposed to bring the kind of chaos that warrants coverage on every news channel and preparation by the masses...followed by days and days of calm and sun. That’s how today feels with my mom seeming so much better. The storm that came with the words “three to four months” has settled into brightness...it’s never as bad as they say it will be, right?