My Husband Put My Sick Mother on an Air Mattress and Said He Made the Rules, but What I Did Next Changed Everything

My mother slept through the last two hours.

I watched her sleep and I thought about the seventy years of her life and what they had contained and what I knew about them and what I didn’t, and I thought about the specific privilege of being present for the part that was happening now, the hard part, the part she would have preferred to have without witnesses.

But she had me.

She had me as a witness.

That had to be worth something.

The trip was announced two weeks into her stay.

It was a business trip, four days, a series of meetings in Seattle that I could not reschedule because they involved external clients and a timeline that had been set before my mother’s diagnosis and that could not be moved without significant professional consequence.

I arranged everything before I left.

I wrote out the medication schedule on a laminated card.

I put it on the refrigerator.

I also put it on the small table in the guest room.

I put the dates and times of the upcoming chemo appointments on the calendar on the refrigerator and also texted them to Gabriel.

I stocked the refrigerator with the foods my mother could keep down, which after three weeks of chemo I understood well, the specific small foods that were not repulsive to a system that found most things repulsive.

Plain crackers.

Ginger tea.

Rice.

Broth.

Applesauce.

I made a pot of rice before I left.

I showed Gabriel where the ginger tea was.