Much continued ~ma for Tom's mohter and The Boy's mother.

Much peace and comfort ~ma to Nora and Teppy.

Teppy, I was in your position when Hubs's mother was dying of cancer. You're helping in exactly the way that in-laws do best. You're taking care of the day-to-day things that have to be taken care of so the immediate family (by which I mean the blood relatives who've known Boy's mother all their lives, or all her life) can devote all their time to the situation and not have to worry about splitting their attention to get a meal or get clothes that are clean or so on. And that's very important.

Boy's job is to go crazy with concern. Doctors' job is to get Boy's mother better. Your job is support. They're all critical.

Boy's job is to go crazy with concern. Doctors' job is to get Boy's mother better. Your job is support. They're all critical.

Indeed they are.

{{{Teppy}}} Everything you're doing matters, just being there and loving the Boy and feeding him and loving his mom and interpreting when the doctors come with their doctor talk. It's as much as any of us can do; it's more than some people can manage.

{{{Nora}}} BTDT with the crying and the sadness that is resistant to facts and even the stop loving me so much, Mom, it just hurts worse. No solutions, only sympathy for how very much it sucks.

{{{{{Nora}}}}} I'm so sorry you're feeling that way.

Okay. The Boy spent the night at the hospital, and his dad was coming over at 8 a.m., so I expected The Boy home between 9 and 10. He texted me at 10 to say he was staying there.

As he is taciturn, I interpreted that as he is staying there b/c things are worse. I texted back asking if he wanted me to come over, and he texted back "Yes!"

Then he called, and said his brothers are coming over, and said that "it's time to make some decisions," and he wants me there for that.

He needed to get off the phone quickly, so I'm assuming that means that she's in very critical condition, and they're at a point of needing to decide whether to put her on a ventilator (which she has emphatically said she doesn't want, and she knows the consequences of not being on a vent), or keep her comfortable with moderate/high doses of morphine.

It doesn't look good for the home team, folks.

So I told The Boy I needed half and hour to shovel in some food, change, and make sure the dogs have pooped outside so we can leave them alone in here. Also, I needed the time to freak out and cry.

She's had a good life and an awesome family who loves her, and she's lived at least 5 years past the doctors' expectations. But still. There's no possible way I can be positive about this. But I want to get all my hysterical crying out now, so that I can be supportive at the hospital. (Which is not to say I won't cry there; there's just a difference between hysterical crying, wherein I'm not useful for anything more than producing snot and saline, and regular crying, which I can do while I do other things, like fetch coffee and write down the doctors' notes, etc.)

So. And I don't know what this all means, whether if she refuses the ventilator that means she has just a little time to live, or days, or what. But here it is.

{{{{{Teppy, The Boy, and family}}}}} I'm so very sorry.

Oh Teppy, I'm so sorry. It's a terribly loss.

I just need to say this "out loud," because it's been rattling around in my brain all week: I wish we had gotten married when she could be there and appreciate it. (I don't mean I wish we had gotten married *because she wants us to*; I mean that I think that we will get married at some point, and his mom would have loved to see it and be a part of it.) She knows I love him, and knows he loves me; that's not a question. But still.

If you have a quiet moment you could tell her that. It's not quite as good of course, but I'm sure it will please her to know.