"Rest more," I said, "It's finished now..." I meant the torturous waiting, the unknown and the anxieties associated with a risky operation. It's all finished now, as far as now is concerned.
I don't know the outcome of the surgery, I don't know whether she is able to eat again, I don't know how bad the situation is inside. But all that news can wait. At least mum is conscious, at least mum is still clear minded, and she can still move and speak, though with difficulty due to the pain. But it's all finished (for?) now.
"It's been hard on you", mum said. Her eyelids were heavy, her face was tired looking, but there was a hint of renewed hope. Hope we've not had or felt in a long time.
I stroked her leg gently and massaged her fingers. "No, it wasn't... It has been much harder for you".
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