Deep vein thrombosis, her leg all swollen and blue, and we feared a bleed.
On blood thinner now, filter protecting her lungs, home to recover.
Compression stocking, why are you so freakin’ tight? No more blood clots, right?
Noticing the bench, “I played piano on that…” she says with a smile.
“Is that Mother’s chair?” I nod at the needlepoint, “Is she still around?”
“About the baby, can we make a plan to see?” a great grandma now.
Behind her at work, the builder pounding away, making our home sound.
Ever resilient, her eyes as blue as the sea, a cat with nine lives.
Mom sits with a book, dog in lap rocking a way, a smile on my face.
Eighty-five years young, expect the unexpected, one day at a time.
—from Living Is for Living: A Caregiver’s Story
