Solemnly talking living will and surrogate care wishes with my mother and her husband last night.
Getting up at 3:30 a.m. for a quick shower and dashing out the door for an all day vigil at the hospital.
Hugging and "I love you's" and comfort for a broken heart yearning for someone not present as the gurney rolls my mother away for six intense hours of brain surgery.
Sitting endlessly in chairs in a sterile unbeautiful waiting room with no windows or plants.
Discussing with one of the top neurosurgeons in the country about the odd and complicated aneurysm now clipped, safe, and secure.
Visiting three precious minutes with my mother, head sewn ear to opposite eye at the hairline, one eye horribly swollen and bloody, IV port in the neck.
Whispering, barely audible "Cold." "Headache." "Headache." "Headache." "Feet." and a final "I love you."
Praying for peace and comfort.
Navigating a new and complicated city alone.
I thought surgery would be the worst of it. Now I quite certain the worst of it will be recovery.
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