Hospital, take three

My mom is in the hospital.

This is the third time since Easter, but I think only the second she's stayed overnight.

She's not feeling well at all. I think it's kidney problems because the tumor is blocking that whole area. She told my sister she doesn't think she'll get to see anyone else. That's not necessarily true.

We think she'll see my little brother and her sisters, and hope so, but it doesn't look good.

I'm detaching right now, I know I am. I am avoiding this blog, avoiding thinking about it, and not reacting to it. I don't know what I should think about it. I don't want her to die, but I don't want her to live like this, and I don't really have a say or choice in the matter. Death has marked her, it has claimed her, and soon it will take her, and I'm upset that it is this way.

I will call her tomorrow, but our conversations don't help her anymore. She's too weak and sick to talk, but I won't not call, though I didn't today. My sister told me she was in the hospital. Getting out of the hospital doesn't mean she will feel better. I don't know. One day, she won't leave the hospital.

I know there is a lot of emotion in me, I know it's there, but it's under the surface, waiting. I know that there's a lot I wish were different, and a lot of anger, not at my mother, never her, not ever, but at the situation, and at the fact that there is no one who can even come close to who she is to me. But those are emotions that will come up, I imagine, another day.