Thank God for Xanax

Today was another very long day. I slept all of about 3 hours last night so I was extremely tired and irritable. Not to mention, my face looks like the before picture in a Pro Activ Solution advertisement, and I started my period. Life pretty much sucks!

My heart is racing, and I can't catch my breath. These are either signs of congestive heart failure or severe anxiety. Since I described my symptoms to my mother's nurses on multiple occasions without her so much as flinching, I'm assuming my problem is the latter. Lucky for me (and my relatives), my wonderful doctor called me in a prescription for Xanax. If the referring WebMD physician (i.e. myself) has misdiagnosed my condition, I'll at least be able to remain calm during my heart attack.

As for my mom, she is still hanging on to every breath. Her breathing has become more and more labored, and the frequency of morphine and Ativan shots has increased. In my eyes, though, she is already gone. No more moaning and wretching. No more grimacing as the blood pressure cuff tightens. No more jerking away from the oxygen mask. Her pupils no longer dilate with light changes, and I no longer recognize her beautiful face anymore. She's gone to join her mother, daughter, and best friend at the big Crawfish Festival in the sky. (I am certain God will not keep her from enjoying the finer things in life - even in the after life.)

I am in a state of panic, however, because I am afraid of forgetting her face. Like when my sister and grandmother died, I'm trying to concentrate on something that I will never forget. With Meme, it was her thin hands and nobby fingers. With grandmother, it was her twisted, crooked index finger and her long, strong fingernails. Since I inherited those fingers, I will never forget them. With my mom, I'm drawn to her hands as well.

Mama has beautiful hands, too. They are small, but not frail. They are thin in the ring area. No pudginess below the knuckle. Her wedding rings always twisted around her ring finger making her look so delicate. She never liked really long nails as she loved to sew and create things. But her nails were always nicely shaped except for that finger that was smashed in a car door when she was a kid. That fingernail never fully recovered.

The last time I visited her before she was admitted to the hospital this time, I gave her a little manicure and a pedicure. I clipped and filed her nails, washed and massaged her hands and feet, and painted her nails a deep pink. She still had the polish on her when she was administered to the UAB. We finally took off the fingernail polish yesterday, but her feet still look freshly pedicured.

Uh-oh, the Xanax is kicking in... Thank you all who posted to me on Facebook. It means a lot. Unfortunately, however, FB is a blocked website here at UAB. I cannot post there, and can only read my wall postings and messages via email. I hope to be home soon. Until then, please pray, and if you find it in your heart, register as an organ donor. The website is:

http://www.organdonor.gov/