This morning, my mother woke up and ate.
"Thank God." I was thinking. Especially for her friend, Heidi, Swiss-Italien and all heart. She stopped by yesterday and told us to make sure she ate things with calories in them, not just drank water.
It started off well. She even asked for a slice of toast, which she ate with lemon curd from Scotland, a gift from my friend Ange.
Then she had lunch - and dinner, a nice big dinner, pasta from my Aunt Bev, who's more like a second mother than an aunt. She showed up with big bags of pasta and sauce and meatballs. I've never been so grateful for food from Aunt Bev - who's a professional baker. Her cupcakes are amazing.
I was so grateful, just for the small things, like my mother eating. It's amazing how something so simple and natural can seem, at times, as difficult a task as scaling Everest.
Then it all came up. Then there was a panicky half hour while we waited for the surgeon to call back. I hid in the basement. The surgeon, Dr. Henderson from the Cleveland Clinic, couldn't be paged and wasn't at home.
The on call surgeon was a Dr. Chan and he was very reassuring.
So we've moved her back to liquids.
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If you're reading this, then I'll tell you that emails are great. Send emails. I might not be able to respond right away, but I will get back to you.
Phone calls...well, the phone has been ringing off the hook. Mostly well wishers. We want to hear from you, but we often can't talk long.
Visiting must be arranged by phone first.
More tomorrow.
