My roommate leaves this afternoon for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow in Houston. Hopefully then we’ll find out if and when they’ll do the operation. This is an all-or-nothing gamble. If the surgery doesn’t work, there is no Plan B. Either she comes home to get better, or she doesn’t come home, or she comes home and we call Hospice. There is no middle ground.
The Kiddo is going to stay with her grandparents while her mom is gone. There’s a part of me that wants to protest, “No! Let her stay here! I’ll take care of her!” But honestly, I’m not home enough to take care of her the way she needs to be taken care of right now. When your mom is trying to survive liver cancer, you need someone to fuss over you a little. Her grandmothers will fuss, and it will be a comfort to them to have someone to fuss over. My job is to stay here and hold down the fort. I’ll make sure the house doesn’t burn down, that there’s toilet paper in the rolls and milk in the fridge. I’ll make sure there’s a home to come back to when people get to come home.
I don’t know what else to say about this. Two weeks ago this wasn’t even on my event horizon. My biggest worries were the upcoming semester, and when Prof. Bhaer was going to call. I figured I knew what I’d be doing the next week, the next month, the next six months. I remember when 14 left for Afghanistan I thought, “Well, it’s only six months. That’s really not that long. How much can change in six months?”