February 17, 2003
Counting blessings, among other things.
I hadn’t been consciously counting the days since my mom had her aneurysm. Somewhere in the back of your brain, events of this magnitude can’t help but leave some sort of dog-eared page or red circle around a date on the internal calendar. The days get counted anyway. Some seemingly unrelated occurrence reminded that yesterday was the two month anniversary, if you will, of my mom’s collapse. Under some circumstances, I can’t imagine my mom not being in the hospital. It just seems like she’s always been there, in one room or another, if not on the eleventh floor, then on the fifth. Other times, it’s as if she was only admitted a few days ago, and I’m still hoping that my dad will be able to make it through all of this. Two months into it, I realize what the difference really is. Instead of counting the days until she recovers, or if she recovers at all… we’re starting to count the days until she gets to go home.
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