Day to Day, Remembering

That was my mom and dad, just a couple months after they were married.

Mom has always said that they sat for this photograph because she was feeling sick and faint as they climbed to the top of a lookout tower above the Juniata River, I think just before that river joins the Susquehanna as they make their way to the sea. I used to know the name of it, but I can't recall any more.

Mom was already pregnant with my sister, Jan, when this picture was taken. Dad was handsome, Mom was a hottie. They both still enjoyed dressing snappy for an outing.

I called Mom this evening, rather than go visit her, because I needed a mental health day for myself. Not mentioning that I was in a hotel 12 miles away, I had a nice conversation with her. She knows I visited, but she does not at all realize that it was only yesterday I took her to church. She knows Jan went to the hospital (at least for that moment) but said she was glad she'd heard nothing, as "no news is good news."

Indeed, I had no news for her. Jan is still in the hospital, though out of intensive care, still refusing to eat or drink. Sustained by a tube through her nose to her stomach, Jan is indomitable, fractious, in command, whacking the poor nurses every time they touch her. She is damn mad, and letting us all know it.

I read from Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave today for over five hours, stopping after each chapter for a water break to soothe my throat. Through some of it, Jan dozed, and when she would awake, startled, my voice was going on and on. Jan is -- although I know she's pissed -- listening to me read. I like to think that hearing me read eases the transition from her dreams to waking. In her dreams, I'll bet she can see and walk and jump and and have great adventures; waking to blindness and weakness must be a horrid experience. "I'm a vegetable," she moaned today after one such waking.

She didn't bop any nurses today, but she still won't so much as taste food or drink. Every touch aggravates the shit out of her, and she is as hostile as a wounded porcupine. Jan wouldn't let me hold her hand or stroke her arm today. But she didn't tell me to "Shut up" or "Get out" or fire me ... I can only take that as a good sign.