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The details get fuzzy here. I think this was when I went home to OH and my BFF and I tried to make the house as user-friendly as possible for Mom. We moved all of her bedroom stuff downstairs, we took out the sliding shower doors and attached a safety rail, I got her a long cord for her personal alert system in case she “fell and couldn’t get up.” Then I went back to Indy.

I can’t remember how many days it was before I got another call. She had fallen and managed to drag herself to the phone and called my BFF for help. Jean and her hub went over to the house, Wayne picked Mom up, carried her to the car, and took her to the hospital. That was the last time she was in her own home. (Wayne can be a complete asshole usually, but that day he was my mom’s hero.)

When I got this call, it was the middle of the work day but I talked to the GM telling him I didn’t know when I would be back, and then I left. And I didn’t-had no idea what the next few months would hold. This time felt different than her original diagnosis. Plus, in my head I was mulling over the things going on in my life. I had just started a new job, I was getting divorced, I lived 4 1/2 hrs away.  

I got to Middletown Regional Hospital around 7. Walking through the halls reminded me of the horrible time 8 years prior when my step-dad died at the same hospital, also of cancer. I stepped in her room and she had not been able to get a nurse to answer her page. You know the scene in Terms of Endearment when Shirley McClaine goes ballistic at the nurses’ station? I wasn’t that crazed but I was very hot and very authoritative. And I was to be that way for several months.

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