I sprinkled a few drops of lavender oil around her pillow, something that has become a sort of ritual before she retires for the night. I fluffed the bed and pillow a bit, took away any fallen strands of hair just as mum is about to lie down.
As if in passing, she mentioned that sometimes she feels pains around her waist, and she pointed to me the general area as she talked about it. Her last body scan revealed a lump around that area. A hemangioma, or benign tumour of the blood vessels. Even if benign, with her condition, it could easily became malignant. And that thought gripped me for a moments, making me freeze. But perhaps my tiredness and sleepiness numbed my emotions, I did not think too much of it. What could I do really even if I worry and fear...?
“Thank you,” she said, “You take care of me so well…” For one split second, I had this thought flash through my mind… who is the mother, who is the child? Have the roles been reversed now that mum is older? I am not complaining, it is just an observation that is surprising, and very moving. To think that some two decades ago, I was the one being tucked into bed at night, I was the one who received a stroke on the arm and a pat on the back. And now, I am doing that as I wished mum a beautiful and peaceful sleep for the night, hoping that her pains and aches will not disturb her sleep too much this night.
Another day gone by, and time to sleep before a new one begins.
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