Gam & Fergie

Gam was lying in bed the other night–obviously in a lot of pain. She’s refusing to take morphine.

She’s stubborn.

“Have you given her any morphine today?” the nurse asks.

“No–she won’t. She’s very stubborn.”

Nurse rolls her eyes and chuckles a bit.  “Really? Stubborn? I hadn’t noticed.”

(Everyone notices.)

Anyway.

I’m lying next to Gam, and she finds my hand and places it over her liver–where the cancer keeps growing and growing. Tries to, at least–she misses the spot, but it’s gotten bigger since last time, so it wasn’t hard to find.

I can tell she’s hurting badly.

“My lump ,” she whispers.

That was all she could get out. But she kept saying it. Over and over.

“My lump . . . my lump . . . my lump, my lump  . . . ”

Unfortunately, you know where this is going.

(Yes, I did.)

“Your lovely lady lumps?”

Gam turns her face to mine and gives me the “are you stupid?” face. Well deserved.

“Check it out!” I shout.

She smiles and mumbles sarcastically, “No, YOU check it out!”

 

 

 

 

 

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