I suppose it's not such a "secret" wish if I'm going to write about it, but here it is.
I am hoping my mother goes to sleep tonight...and just doesn't wake up. I know that's a terrible thing to say, but we had the very best lunch ever today.
The day started with my appointment with my doctor for the dreaded annual exam. I had geared up for a tongue-lashing, which was not forthcoming, thank goodness. I also shared more with her today than I think I have shared with her in the years (~10) that she has been my doctor. She also prescribed the anti-depressant therapist Debbie suggested I take.
Then she sent me to x-ray to check on the pain I've had for months--maybe more than a year--in my coccyx.
When I was sitting in the tiny dressing room at Kaiser waiting to have my lower back x-rayed, I realized how late it was and called my mother to remind her I was coming for lunch, but that I would be late and not to go without me.
The x-ray took about 2 minutes and I was going to stop by the pharmacy to pick up the new meds, but the line was out the door, so I decided to go to Atria first and then come back to Kaiser to get the pills.
The visit started out the same as always, telling me she was feeling disoriented and that she hates it when she occasionally has days like that (she doesn't realize that she tells me that every day), that she feels old, that her brain isn't working, etc.
I was happy to see that she seems to be caught up on her meds. I was afraid that she had forgotten to take them every day.
While we were walking to lunch, something I said struck her as funny and she started giggling. She was in a giddy mood all through lunch and everything made her laugh. It was just a delight. A lot of times she told me things that didn't make any sense, but she thought it hilarious and giggled. She talked about men and sex and food and being old, and losing her mind, and other people in the dining room, and said that even her teeth don't work any more (said she puts food in her mouth and she forgets what she's supposed to do with it). Everything made her giggle and I was so happy to share her giddiness.
When we got back to the apartment, she sunk into her chair again and the depression was back, but they can't take away that fun luncheon. I realize that what I need to do is just take these gems of days as they come, enjoy them to the fullest, and let them sustain me when we talk for the thousandth time about living to hunnert or why she's the last of her family still alive.
As I left, she threw her arms around me, hugged me tight and told me she loved me.
But if there is a kind, compassionate God, my mother will just quietly pass out of this life tonight and take those giggles with her to heaven.
When I left Atria, I went back to Kaiser, happy that the line in the pharmacy was non-existent and I could pick up my meds right away.
Then I came home and had "the talk" with my computer guru. He is going to investigate what he can build for me (which will be nice because then he will know it inside and out). He also says that some of the data on my dead computer may be recoverable, which is good news. I realize I have been going through a mourning period for the beloved desktop and have kind of come to peace with losing the data I have lost (thank GOD I have two external hard drives which have most of my information stored there, more than I realized), so any information he can retrieve will be wonderful bonus.
I had the breaking in process. I do not upgrade happily, but I know that when I have finally done it, I will be better off...because I know that this laptop is also on its last legs and I need to be switched over before it dies too.