On Tuesday, long before I got the news about my Mom being admitted to the hospital, I stopped by my friend Heidi’s shop. She is closing the shop, which I can barely talk about here because I’m so sad about it, and is having a sale for the next month. Things were all over the place, some fixtures had already been purchased; it was overwhelming. Heidi’s shop was the first place Don and I went to purchase a few things when we moved into our new home. I got to know Heidi and eventually worked there part-time for a few years. I’ve spent a lot of time there.

There’s not much in our small town and Heidi’s shop was the star.

While I was talking to her, I saw this book and grabbed it. Mom’s name is Shirley and I loved the title. It suits her. Little did I know that Mom was about to be hospitalized.

Thank you for all the prayers and love and light being sent her way. She was in the ER for about 18 hours until a bed was free. She doesn’t have a UTI. The pneumonia is in her lower left lobe. She’s been on a broad spectrum antibiotic but will be put on something geared specifically for her infection shortly. After sleeping and being fairly non-responsive for days, the nurse told me Mom’s eyes were open and she was watching the nurses go about their business. That’s what we know for now.

In a strange twist, Meredith’s mother-in-law was also taken to the ER around the same time because she was having trouble breathing. She’s also been admitted.

So now we wait. I’ve been helping Heidi sort through things and I’m going to help out a bit this morning as she opens the shop for the sale. I’m also under the weather with a sinus thing, so I’m feeling pretty yucky.

I fear wit and sparkling prose are out the window for today.

Happy Thursday.

 

I am in Command Central.

Which means my chair in the den. I seem to spend a lot of time here lately. Some might say too much time and I would be inclined to agree. It has been impossibly hard for me to get motivated lately. I know why. Frigid temperatures, endless snow with endless shoveling, icy paths, my husband is far away, it’s winter, my mother isn’t doing well…..I just can’t seem to get excited about anything. I might have to call it for what it is, a mild depression.

It will pass.

This is what I see from Command Central:

Stacks of reading material on the coffee table.

A Garnet Hill catalogue.

Where Women Create (I almost never fork out the money for this magazine, though it is beautifully done, because it’s so pricey. But my longtime blogging friend June is featured this month. Her studio is gorgeous. I’m so happy for her. Congratulations, June!)

Flow magazine

Country Gardens. I usually buy this magazine at some point, but one of my readers tipped me off to a wonderful spread on McCoy Pottery in this issue, so I immediately hightailed it to the store.

The Accident. The next book up on my review schedule.

I brought the quilt downstairs yesterday, thinking that if I see it, I might get back to the hand quilting. Cross your fingers.

Sweet little egg cups. That original Disney egg cup – Doc – might be the one with the most monetary value in my collection. They are not easy to come by.

All things camera are stashed on the desk.

Oh, and this:

Sleepy Scout. She’s snoring at the moment.

Mom is not doing well and I’ve been on the phone with my dad and sister quite a bit. Dementia has been taking over and she is out of it more often than not. We’re trying to determine whether she has another UTI. She is prone to them and is supposed to be on an daily antibiotic for that condition for the rest of her life, but once again, we have discovered that the antibiotic was stopped by the doctor on staff. And every time that happens, she gets another infection. So I was on the phone with the nursing home yesterday.

My dad is having an increasingly hard time seeing her that way and when she doesn’t respond to him, he can’t help but get depressed.

The truth is, the mom that we knew is gone and has been gone for a long time. I think she exists in a state that is half in/half out of this world. It’s heartbreaking.

I want her to find peace. I want that more than anything.

I know you understand.

Boy, life can be cruel sometimes.

I’m going to share something with you. My mom loved Oil of Olay and used it every night. That is the scent that Meredith and I associate with her. I would catch a whiff of it when I kissed her goodnight or when, even as an adult, I would plop myself in her lap for a quick cuddle. That scent is Mom.

For the past two years, always when I am alone, I will sometimes smell Oil of Olay. It will saturate the air for about ten minutes or so. The first time it happened, I thought I was imagining things. But I knew that smell was unlike any other in my home. It was Mom’s scent. Was it her?

Then I talked to Meredith about it and we both agreed that Mom was visiting me. I know it. Mer knows it. Months can go by between visits. It happened again recently. When it comes, I stop and say hello to her and tell her I love her and miss her. I thank her for being the best mom ever. I tell her that we will make sure Dad is okay and not to worry about him.

Mostly, I just sit there, filled with wonder. It comforts me. And I know that on some level, Mom is still Mom. That no matter what we see on the surface, deep within her is a place where Mom/Shirley exists, fully and perfectly.

I haven’t told my dad about it, but maybe I should. I think it might comfort him, as well.

Thanks for listening.

Happy Tuesday.