04.18.04 - 12:22 a.m.

I am so exhausted. Now, not only have I memorized the view from the two windows at either end of the hall of my mother's hospital ward (do they call them wards, now?), I have memorized the view from the smoking area of CAMC Women & Children's Hospital, which is neatly tucked between the hospital and the Elk River. There's a small sort-of garden with a few trees and a few marble benches, memorial benches to dead kids, essentially, and then there's a long concrete patio overlooking the river, with rubberized picnic tables for your convenience.

It's the only place outside to walk, unless one plans on escaping. Thus far, my mother has not managed to escape, so I've had another pair of surreal days. They can't get her clotting time under appropriate control, for whatever crazy-ass reason. She's been there since April 7, 2004 and she's still there, and now it is April 18, 2004. After one ridiculously high day, her clotting time was lower on Friday than it was even before she went on Coumadin.

I was going to roleplay tonight, but I don't believe I have the energy. I'm utterly, completely spent, and although part of me needs to capture the texture of the day - the surreal, sad little flourishes to it, the parking passes, the ice cream, the mall, the way we've run out of most things to say because we are spending so much time together and are reduced to telling dog stories. Or bad jokes.

And yesterday: mom turned 58. So, she spent her birthday in the hospital, but received a pass to go to dinner. So in the morning, I was working, crazy to try and get a packet sent off to an expert, in the afternoon, I was walking around in the sunshine listening to my home inspector and my real estate agent spar over whether or not the electrician who worked on the LAST house was a bum or not. (One said yes, one no.) ...and schmoozing with Max the Axe, who completely rocks. If I ever need to do a portrait of someone completely in love with his work: it's Max. He deserved his own entry. Especially because he thinks I rock, too. Hah!

I'm adopting Max as my surrogate dad, since my dad doesn't know stuff like that.

Anyway, in late afternoon, I was back to the hospital, and then that night I was off for a fancy dinner. None of it makes sense. Saying that it doesn't make sense doesn't make sense.

I really, really need for this to end soon, but mom needs it more. I thought the other stuff was bad: this is as bad, possibly worse, than any of it. Spring, so close, the sunshine, and so close to the end of the treatment (conscious, as always, of the for now sign hanging over her head, flashing like neon in the dull night) and ...this.

Tomorrow.