Empty

I had a different post in mind to write next. But tonight's visit put that post out of my mind. I'd been told that Mom had been able to sit up in a wheelchair for short periods of time, but I'd never seen it. Until tonight.

It was horrible.

She was sitting at the end of the hall, near the elevator. I've often seen patients in that spot. It gives them a change of scenery when they aren't up to going much further. It's close to the nurse's station, so the patient can see a lot of different people coming and going, but still be near help if needed.

I can't bring myself to write down any sort of description that comes to mind. They're all too... I don't know... is "dehumanizing" too strong a word? Maybe. Enough to say, I didn't see my mom there. More than ever, tonight I feel like my mom is gone. There's just this suffering shell of a person left.