Roses and a birthday

Today is my birthday. I'm thankful of where I am.

I can think of no better place to be than here at the nursing home with Mom. I just had the absolute best birthday celebration with Jen and Haven, Julie, Eric, Aaron and Emily. Oh, and Noah, the paintball loving baseball player still glowing from his throw to the plate from center field -- a frozen rope to the catcher to preserve the win.

SAP ALERT! SAP ALERT!

Dad's pissed at mom. Well, wait. Maybe not. They're talking about all the times that Mom used to "piss him off" and how he'd always use her full name, Maryann. "Not fair," dad says. "I also used your name all those times I told you I love you." Awww.....

Mom has a small bowl of rose pedals on her lap. She's thumbing one as she talks about how much she enjoys Father Charlie from Saint Pauls. "Tell me about the rose pedals," I ask.

It was a dream. I was in a hospital. I was wearing a red dress. The hospital was clearly a university hall. There was a big display window on the side -- the pharmacy lab. Down on the bottom of all the shelves were these two boxes of beautiful rose pedals. "I read the label and it was the exact cure for my condition," Mom says with vigor. The rose pedals were so vivid, "beautiful red, like my dress."

Mom awoke at 3:00am to a nurse with pain medicine. The dream was so vivid, mom started to cry. (hey all you tough people reading, I'm just the messenger, I'm not intending on writing all these sappy details. If my hockey team is reading, it's ok to cry. It really is. Just imagine you're me, missing the wide open net, then falling from the inertia of whiffing on your shot). "Pure, unconditional love with no judgement," Mom continues. That's what the rose pedals meant. "I had reservations about my choices -- the diet, my fears..."

The next day her daughter, Julie (the oldest, with an amazing opera voice and her strawberry blonde hair) brought mom a bowl full of rose pedals. Mom felt the urge to spill the rose pedals from head to toe. "It fealt wonderful. It was like being carried into a different space."

I couldn't make this stuff up, folks. Neat lady, huh? I joke with her about making sure she doesn't dump any plants on her head because I'd hate to clean up all the dirt. Speaking of plants, the Orchid I bought her is still alive. I can tell my wife hasn't been taking care of it! (hah! oops. I think she reads this. Andi, I'm just kidding, hon).

It's nearly 8:00pm. Mom is very tired. Late night last night and a full day today. Therapy in the morning, radiation in the afternoon, 4 visitors, a birthday party and a lot of talking.

No coughing though. Now that's a blessing.