Because I have nothing going in life but working, prepping for the trip, thinking about mom, being pissed at my jackass brother. Brandon is my rock right now. In his own way, he’s keeping me sane. We’ve gone out and done things outside the house all weekend. Partly because the apartment was so damn hot, but I know also that he wanted to make me feel better.

The truth is, I’m scared.

When I went home last time to see mom, I sort of expected to see her in worse shape. You know, sunken cheeks and bald head. I had a picture in my mind of a holocaust prisoner, I guess. So when I saw her with her hair was just considerably thinning and she looked okay despite the fact that she didn’t want to eat much, I wasn’t thrown off all that much. Her weakened state indeed surprised me.

Now, I know she’s bound to the bed with tubes coming in and out of every which way. I know she is paralyzed on one side. I know her speech is slowed and slurred. But I just can’t picture all of that in my head. Y’all, I REALLY CAN’T PICTURE IT! I don’t know what I’d see. I don’t know how I’d feel. I don’t know what I’d do.

It makes the hair in the back of my head stands up. It makes my stomach churns. It makes my heart aches and my hands tremble just thinking about it.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.

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