Yesterday at 11 PM I knew that Medicare existed.

Today at daybreak I knew more than I ever wanted to know about Medicare, Medicaid, Medigap, Social Security, and on and on.  With a good understanding of mom’s situation, and since I remembered she told me she didn’t want me there for radiation therapy, I figured I could sleep until 8, so I packed it in at 6.

Nineteen minutes later the phone rang.  “What time will you be here?”

Radiation is at 7.  I got up, cleaned up in a hurry, and stumbled out the door.

It’s a sad thing when you find yourself outside a door with a deadbolt, worrying that you’ve just locked yourself out of the house without your keys so that you’re unable to lock the door.  Eventually I did figure out that if I can’t lock the door, I’m not actually locked out.  And I had the keys anyway.  I CAN function with no sleep, but no sleep and no coffee is a deadly combination.

To mom’s, to the hospital, then to breakfast where she ate half of a one-egg breakfast, and proudly showed me her weight recorded on her calendar.  She’s lost nine pounds since her last weigh-in last week.

I don’t think I’ve wasted less than ten thousand words on her, explaining why food is so important and what foods she needs to be eating.  I’m done.

I spoke with dad.  Everything I learned last night he already knew, and he explained it all to her on Saturday.  Mom never told me that, and I wasn’t going to call him at midnight to ask.  “I did all that research last night for nothing?” I asked.  “Yep,” he said.

Then to the surgeon, to have the sutures removed from her chest where the port was inserted.  “That’s it,” I told her.  “I’ve helped you get through at least one of every new procedure.  Everything from here on is old hat.”

I’ve done everything within my power.  I don’t know what else I can do.