It's 4:30 am. I can't sleep, although I gave it a try around midnight. My mom is in the hospital and has been for almost 2 weeks. The surgery went well but then there were complications. "It happens", the Dr. offered. "It's a wait and see process."
So what do I do in the meantime, while I'm waiting to see? Lying in bed, she looks so frail, so tiny. The ten pound loss left her already thin frame, jut out beneath the covers, lying haphazerdly over her body. Her eyes are closed, but not at rest, indicitive of the war her body is raging. I can't tell, is pain the cause...or a fight to survive? Cautiously, I pull and smooth the blankets, trying to cover her for warmth, working my way around tubes, needles and beeping machines. Aware of the movement, her eyes flutter open. I look for a glimpse of hope and well being in them. Pain and fright stares back at me.
Placing my hand over hers, I give her my best smile of encourgement.
"Are you ok, Ma?
"It hurts." Her eyes close and she's back in the drug induced world of confusion.
The beep,beep, beep of the machines pounds out a rythm to match my heart. I feel like the mother, responsible to make it all better, walking the floor with worry and no answers. All I can do is offer menial creature comforts, fleeting at best. I can't fix it. I can't make it go away. I have no answers. Suddenly my mind is transported back to when I was a young mother and my children were ill. This is all too familiar. I had no answers to their growing pains or broken hearts. I could only offer them creature comforts. A hug, a soft touch, a whispered "It will be ok." Ah, yes, and a prayer. Words spoken to the Father, the one who hears and moves in answer to our prayers. He tells me, "Cast all you care on me, because I care for you."
Movement comes from her bed. Moving to the side, I brush back her hair and adjust the pillow beneath the face I've looked into for 50+ years. "Mama, I whisper, it's going to be ok. He knows. I told him and it's in his hands, now. You rest... and so will I."
Lowering my body to the chair next to her bed, I settle in and close my eyes. Sleep comes.