Coma Chronicles 3: 10 Days

25 July 2008

This morning, Mom seemed more responsive – and I’m driving myself crazy thinking that I see more movement out of the corner of my eye, just when I look away. A little hand movement or her toes wiggling. So I study her. Her eyes stay half open, she seems to swallow, and she squished her chin a little when I tickled her there. Dad takes all these as signs of recovery. He tells her “I’m waiting for you, come to Cape Town with me. I cant go on my own”. This makes my throat close up, and I have to leave the room.

2 people have died in the CCUnit in the ten days she has been here. The waiting room has become so familiar. We sit on the couch, watch other families, avoid eye contact with the people going for a smoke outside. Robert comes by with food and drink. Cathy and I hold each other up. Dad had made friends with the smokers, and he brings brandy in old jam jars, which he takes secret swigs of. It’s bizaar because the jar looks a bit like a urine sample. He comes early – at 4am or something, he looks tired and so so sad and rumpled. He knows the ailments of all the smokers.

Marg arrived. Robert drove Cathy and I to the airport to get her. We were so tense waiting for her, so scared, so anxious for her.

If only, If only If only.