January 7, 2014

Having a sick little newly-minted 7-year-old home with raging nightly fevers brings Mama’s suffering back.

I wrap Micah’s calfs in wet washcloths to lower his temperature. This is called Wadenwickel. Mama made these for me whenever I had a fever as a child. She asked for them at the hospital – rather than more drugs. Only one time, at the hospice, was I able to return the favor and wrap her thin calfs in cool relief.

Her suffering was so great, memories of it make me go numb and wordless. These memories, too, are part of her life, the final part, but a short part and not the one I want to focus on here.

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