I was there for my mother today.
There are times when the pain becomes unbearable for her, and this morning was one of those times. As I was washing up my children’s breakfast bowls, I heard my mother call for help. She was calling everyone – anyone – hoping that someone was close enough to hear her call. I heard and went running. Seeing the grimace of pain and discomfort on her face was frightening. Her small gloved hands were wringing to the beat of her agony. She asked for my father. I knew that he was gone – having slipped out early in the morning to complete some last minute Christmas shopping.
“I need morphine” she told me through clinched teeth.
I had never done this before but had seen my father give her a dose on occasion. I had to steady my own breathing as I ran to the fridge to grab the “emergency box” that was filled with pain relieving goodness. I carefully filled the syringe with the liquid morphine and ran back to her bedroom to administer the dose.
“Thank you,” she said, with what seemed to be relief in her voice.
“Do you want the kids and I to come sit with you?” I asked with a slightly quivering voice.
“Whenever you get finished with them that would be nice.”
I finished up the dishes and took the twins back to sit with her. By now the morphine had already begun to take effect. We sat and talked for a while.
I’m glad to be back here by her side.