As I sit here in the hospital...

I am watching my mother as she sleeps. Her tremors are quiet. Jaw loose of all tension, her chest rises and falls evenly, and she is breathing well. Her skin is tinted slightly blue from the dye injected into her right breast tissue. This morning, shortly after 8:30, I watched my sleepy mother wheeled away from me, down the OR wing toward a mastectomy of her right breast.

Sitting here in the hospital, I think about all the hours and hours she has spent by my side when I was sick or hurting. And I think about dad too. I feel his presence. Mom and I are both cradled in his love. He is here with us, and I am comforted. It feels right, in a strange way, to be sitting here in this hospital room alone with my mother. I am adjusting, I guess, to our family of two. Last night, I rubbed mom's feet before bed, like dad used to do. She cried, and I sat with her, comforting her quietly, and allowing her presence to comfort me. We miss him so much. But because he is dead, I must learn to rely on my own strength. On the support from friends and relatives. We have so much love and support.

I am sitting here in this hospital, drinking in the incredible calm energy of the room. I helped perform energy healing work on my mom. I could feel the heaviness as my hands pulled stagnant energy away. Mom is sleeping peacefully; an aromatherapy eye-pillow blocks out the light, and soothing music, the noise. I can look to the tv for photos of nature. I breathe in deeply and I feel the peace and love dispersed in the air. Again, I know dad is with us. Loving us still.

Yesterday, we did an energy session with mom. The nurse had me start with a point on mom's feet: a point that allows her to feel herself as strong and powerful; to awaken her strength. And I thought of dad telling me he enjoyed rubbing mom's feet to help her relax. And I focused on my breath, and thought about how much he loved us and we loved him. How much he wants to be here to hold us both now. And at the end of the session, the nurse started crying. She said she did not know why. Then she took a breath and said "I just had a vision, of you being held by an angel" and we all started crying and I said "he's with us". The nurse said that kind of powerful experience had only happened to her once before.

Last night, we had a BBBB: Bye Bye Boobie Bash;) with pink themed snacks and drinks; pink balloons (boobies) everywhere. People signed mom's mirror with messages of love, support, laughter. We laughed and laughed. She laughed, and she was hugged, and she was so uplifted and comforted by the support of so many. We both were.

We started off this morning centered, breathing deeply and calm. Mom was ready. And I was ready. My dad's sister Kristin, Mom's best friend from forever, Sandy, and me= initial team. Then add Briefly Don, and his wife Shirley, mom's good friend. Then Dottie stopped by for a quick hug, then Ginny Brown came to bless Mom and say a prayer with all of us over her. And then it was time and everyone but me left the room. The anesthesiologist gave her some medicine to relax her, and she drifted out quickly, wooden cross in one hand, and my hand in the other. I put her i-pod headphones in with healing, soothing music, and she drifted off and I told her I loved her, and they wheeled her away and I broke down because the sight of my pale, sleepy mother reminded me of watching my father die. The doctors and nurses reassured me that they would take good care of her, "No, its just...that I watched my father die and..." I choked out, but they were already walking away. I grabbed a tissue and stood outside moms room for a minute, pulling myself together before joining Sandy and Kristin.

And now it is over, and now she can focus on healing! or rather we have healing to do. SENDING POSITIVE ENERGY MOM.

As I sit here in this hospital room, with this amazing woman before me, looking vulnerable, yet relaxed in her hospital bed, My heart is filled with gratitude. I am so grateful for all of the life experiences that I have had that have prepared me for this moment. I am grateful that my mother is alive. That I love her so damn much, and that she loves me. I am grateful that she is getting some rest. And I am grateful for the peace in this room: a positive environment for healing. I am grateful for all of mom's friends, for our family, for all of my friends. I am grateful for my dog, who has allowed me to escape from the hospital today for walks in the sun. I am so, so thankful that I am alive, and well. That I can be here for my mom. That I can hold her hand, and rub her feet. That I can sit quietly in the corner of this hospital room and watch her sleep.

Here is the photo she wanted to look at upon waking: