Moma wanted to sit on the bedside pot…and I assisted her despite her body’s resistance. It’s quite a procedure, it hurts her legs tremendously and it strains my back due to her fear of feeling more pain or simply falling.
As she sat there on the bedside pot, “It is Well With My Soul” was playing on the CD…I was singing along with it, thoughtful, as Moma had tried my patience minutes before when I tried to get her to eat and take her needed medicines. She tossed her bacon on the bed after one bite, refused her grilled cheese, ate two bites of applesauce. She refused to drink her potassium and she chewed her capsule blaming me for not giving her water even though I had the glass of water in my hand holding the straw to her lips.
“See if I’m making sense,” she said. “I want to make sense. Do I make sense?”
“Some days are better than others, Moma...but, yes, right now you’re making sense.”
“Ok, see if I am making sense.” (Long pause)
“Do I have other plants?”
“Yes, do I have other plants?”
“For your situation, Moma?” I asked to be sure. “Do you have other plans?”
“Yes, do I have other plans?”
“Moma, there’s nothing else here we can for your cancer. The only plans we have, Moma, is to make you comfortable until God takes you home to be with Jesus.”
She looks at me with disbelief in her eyes.
“Moma, there is no other medicine we can give you to make it go away. It’s up to God to either take it away or take you home.”
“Does that make sense, Moma?”
“Yes,” she says slowly, “it makes sense. I want other plans.”
“What kind of plans do you want Moma?”
“I want it go away.”
“The cancer, Moma?”
“Yes,” she says as she nods her head.
“I’m sorry, Moma. I can’t fix that for you. No one can, except God.” I hug her up close.
Then I began putting the fresh pull up on her, getting her ready to put back in bed.
“Be Still My Soul/Take It to God in Prayer compellation” is now playing.
“If you are tired of hurting, talk to Him about it. Tell Him how bad you’re hurting. Tell Him if He plans to leave you here longer with us that you need Him to take some of your pain. Tell Him you need Him to take the pain. He tells us, ask and receive. Then after you do that, Moma…trust Him to do it.”
“Take My Hand, Precious Lord and Lead Me Home / Just a Closer Walk with Thee”…is now floating through the room.
I placed her back in the bed. Adjusting and covering her. She lay her head on the pillow, kept her eyes shut tight and didn't opened them.
I noticed the song had changed and “Great is Thy Faithfulness” was now playing on the CD player.
As I type beside her bed, approximately twenty minutes later since she had closed her eyes…the cd is beginning to repeat itself and “It Is Well With My Soul” has began again.
She wakes and asks for her eye glasses.
I give them to her and she says, “I want you to know; I love you.”
“Oh, I know you do, with all my heart, I know. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
“Then I’ve done it,” she said, “I’ll tell you more later, bye now. And closed her eyes.