back and forth and back and forth

uNdEr tHe KniFe. there is something utterly timeless, almost mythical, somewhat medieval about 128 as i drive south towards beverly hospital to retrieve my mom. the pounding, pouring rain of the night before has ceased, the sky has cleared, and a misty fog rises from the ground. there is nothing but trees lining this stretch of road. their leaves are just starting to turn, the colors muddy shades of yellow and gold and crimson. (what is it with this lackluster foliage? probably the excessive rain this summer, probably global warming, probably a big giant warning sign that this whole planet is going to hell in a handbasket sooner rather than later. but i can't think about that now. i can't think about 2 hours from now, 2 days from now, let alone the self-imposed destruction of the planet, at this moment in time. i am on my way to get my mother out of the hospital. there is nothing else and nothing beyond that.) the fog is flawless, as if out of a movie, it seems like an illusion. the air smells of earth and rain and fall. it seems that a wandering knight, muddy and bruised, should appear on horseback, emerging from the trees. this has been one of those nights that grabs you by the throat, pushes your head under the water, and chokes you, relentlessly and mercilessly, and does not loosen his grip until dawn comes and breaks you free just as you are about to succumb forever to the night. the light of day rushes in and clears your airways and fills your lungs and jump starts your heart. you are alive. and you are glad to be. and you are aware of how uncertain that was just a short time ago...

"i am all alone"

this thought keeps bouncing around my thoughts.

but, truly, i am.


when i get to the hospital i somehow find my way through the maze up to my mother's room on the 5th floor. purely on instinct. i have no idea how we got there last night, having gone from radiology to medical day care to surgery day care to surgery reception to this terrible 4 bed room and bed 501a assigned to my mom. my mom, who made the journey on a hospital bed in a johnny writhing in pain. pain she couldn't even describe or articulate or pinpoint. pain that the first two shots of morphine couldn't alleviate. pain like i have never seen before. pain that seemed like it would never end and that made it impossible to recall the time before it had started. i had dissolved upon leaving my mom's side and somehow followed exit signs through a flood of tears into the dark night and the pouring rain. i had not thought to pay attention to my path. and so i blindly make my way to the corner of the 5th floor. anxious. relieved. ecstatic. exhausted. feeling guilty that she is awake and alone and waiting. i pick up my pace and rush through her door. i am shocked to see her in her own clothes, her sneakers on. OH MY GOD. THANK FUCKING GOD.

of course we are in a hospital and that means paper work and waiting. waiting and paper work. so i curl up next to her in her hospital bed and we watch live with regis and kelly. not as though nothing has happened. as though everything has happened. and here we are, two exhausted souls worn out completely from the battle, trying to reserve some energy, trying to, for the first time in days, just be - simply, easily, be. and i don't know what it is or how i will do it, all i know is that i love her enough to find a way to get her through this. and i look at her and hold her hand knowing that she loves me enough to want to get through it. and one more time we will take the risk and bet all we have that that is enough.