My mother had a stroke on May 1st. The doctors said that she would be a vegetable. . . I write these words a few days before Mother's Day 2007. This morning my sister and I met my Mom's doctor to discuss her future. I am appreciative of what he is trying to do. He wants us to begin thinking of things that we want to keep covered and out of sight. His experiences with similar cases, I am sure are valuable to him, but this is not a usually or a most often, this is not a past history, this is my Mom. She lies critically ill in a bed, unconscious, receiving her nourishment, and air through a tangled umbilical of hoses, lines and cords. We grasp at every positive hint. We make excuses for dark signs. This is our Mom. . . God made Eve from Adam's rib. I came from someplace deeper and much more intimate than a rib. I suspect (being an outsider to the mystery) that the tearing, the parting of birth is both physical and emotional. Birth being only the first wrenching separation in...
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