February has been a whirlwind of time. The hypercalcemia and rising ammonia pull at her body towards being bed bound from muscle weakness, and mind towards delirium. But not yet. She is still with us, with me, here in the present, not yet at a place where communication requires a different level of listening.

Somehow, her body is still buffering the effects of the severe hypercalcemia levels somewhat. Not in a coma, not in delirium. Yes, she fades as the day wears on, visual disruptions occasionally flicker into sight, she catches herself after cognitive glitches, and she has to reconstruct sentences when tired. But still here with us to smile, to talk gently, to laugh. We are managing to get the prior authorizations from hospice for the infusion of bisphosphonates and saline to help keep the calcium from continually rising. It helps a little, allowing her to feel the brain fog clear after two days or so. The calcium levels climb back up in a week. For the ammonia, her oncologist additionally prescribed a particular antibiotic. Which was too pricey for hospice to want to cover. Thousands for purchasing a month’s worth here, but hundreds if you manage to source it in Canada. So there was/is some hilarious learning to fill prescriptions in Canada. Thankful for the friends doing the drive from Vancouver to deliver them.

Diet wise, she’s trending towards smaller meals, which we try to overlay with snacks. Typically as easily digestible as possible, or just going for the enjoyment of it. There is a recent thirst for orange juice, so the hand juicer keeps my right forearm fit two oranges at a time.

All this is temporary, we are well aware, and things will turn harder. And time is precious. Yet the other infusions, the ones of joy, love, and company continue. She is most lucid late morning through lunch, and more so two to three days after the hypercalcemia treatment. So friends have been making the effort and time to say hello, bring lunch, laugh a little, or just to sit and share a hug. And some of you witness the afternoon fade. Sometimes she lasts through a dinner with the right nap and meal timings. Then there are the infusions of care via the quick stops bringing home cooked meals, food, cards and notes, hellos or even caffeine delivered for me; though not providing the opportunity to spend time with her, are making a difference cheering and celebrating her life from the sidelines. Also the infusions of little things and special things being done, from helping chores go faster, phone calls for us, research of silly things, Illustrator files, etc. Thank you all.

Here are some photos (pardon the non-gallery, I’ve just been inserting photos to this page from the phone occasionally till the next update). Some with you walking close whilst she is here and present in mind, and some of the quiet personal moments. Sometimes things are just flowing along and we miss out on grabbing a snap, but know you are there in her heart, with our gratitude.

Do I prefer to grow up and relate to life directly, or do I choose to live and die in fear?
~ Pema Chodron