I can’t quite believe we’re here.

Two years ago, I arrived at the house my mom rented in Charlottesville to take her to an appointment at UVA. I thought we were getting her started with orthopedic care in recovery from a significant femur break. Instead, I found my mom nearly unresponsive, confused, and unable to move.  She was transported to the hospital by rescue squad, and we spent the rest of the day in the emergency room as test after test was performed to make sense of what was happening. 

Doctors discovered a host of challenges, most notably an abscess in her abdomen that required surgery. We were in the hospital for almost a month when doctors shared that they had no reasonable expectation for her recovery.  

Well, Mom showed them!

Two years later, Mom is still “kicking.” She’s still living in the same nursing facility where she landed after leaving the hospice facility. She continues to work on her physical therapy. We visit regularly - she’s my biggest cheerleader and a great listener to my regular workplace intrigues. 

I’m in awe of her resilience. I can’t pretend that the last two years haven’t been very, very challenging. They have. But my mom is still here. She’ll see her granddaughter sing on stage this month and graduate in May. We don’t take those blessings for granted.