Today's post is brought to you by the letter B

I keep my phone turned on and by my bed when I'm in Rhode Island in anticipation of an "I've fallen and I can't get up" call from my mom who's on the other side of the house.

I'm thinking of investing in Walkie Talkies; I would be sleeping right now had my sister Becky not texted me shortly before 6am to check on my mom. She has been forgiven and now given credit for supplying me with the handful of minutes (that's not an expression) I needed to scrape together today to update.

Most important, I still have a virgin colon (and am resisting all sorts of jokes there...).

I did end up canceling the appointment but not because you all frightened me with your tales of fecal woe (which you did!). Dan's uncle, a man of legend in his family and community (as it sounds from the turnout at the funeral) passed away this past Friday night and I canceled my appointment in order to attend the funeral. Though it is always sad to lose one of the world's great souls, his death was not unexpected and hopefully brought the man some relief as he was in his 80s and had been ill for a while. Dan said the funeral was a great tribute and also quite the service with Archbishop of Connecticut delivering the mass as Dan's uncle was a priest. Though I wish I could have been there, I did not end up attending as my mom has been struggling more than ever these past few days and it wasn't the time to leave her.

As always, she is fighting the battle of pain and vomiting, both of which are stripping her of strength and energy (not to mention joy). We are trying to find the right combination of medications to alleviate her suffering but have learned that it's not as easy as simply taking a pill as what works for one person does not work for another. Also, the body gets used to pain meds pretty quickly such that the the dosage needs constant evaluating and upping. For my mom, who has always been weary of over-medicating, this is an adjustment. The other part of the balancing act is finding the medication and dose that will stop the pain but also keep my mom's brain sharp and aware and here with us. So, that's the journey. This morning, as every other, I wake up hoping that today she has a better day.

Last night she did finally find relief from the pain but it wasn't until 8pm (and after a bout of vomiting). As soon as she finds relief, her face changes. I can actually see her eyes shift from strain to warmth and she is able to smile which the pain usually prevents (a robbery felt by everyone). I felt sad that the best part of her day was at its ending, but grateful it came and I am hopeful that it carried her through the night. That's the start of my usual line of morning questions I ask when I go to greet her up in her bedroom:

How was the night?

Did you throw up?

How are you feeling this morning?

Can you eat anything?

Where's the pain?

And so on. And throughout the day this same line of questions cycles around as we try to help her find comfort as the hours go on. It's been a tough few days and I can't say otherwise. Still, there have been moments when my sisters and I have hung out on her bed, or sat three of us on the couch, my mom in the middle, watching Lifetime movies and I don't have to wait until later to cherish them.

While I obviously don't want my mom to suffer, I said to her the other night, "I feel kind of selfish because I want you to be here."

She said, "I want to be here too. We want the same thing...And when I don't want to be here and you want me to be here, that's okay too."

Profound moments like this are happening every day now. I watched my mom say goodbye to her visiting sisters, most of whom live out of state, and recognized that this goodbye was the hardest any of them have ever had to say.

It's intense, to say the least.

So, now my handful of morning has passed and it's time to see how Gig is doing today...

Sometimes I just shout it out midday while looking up at the sky, arms pleading, "Give her a break today, will ya?"

Feel free to join me.