2006-07-10 || 6:45 p.m.

|| the bejewelled turban ||

i'm having trouble breathing. as a champion of psychosomatics, i take it as sympathy gasping for my mother's lungs. there's a pinch at the bottom of my ribcage i imagine to be in the exact spot where my mom's lungs are hardening like calcified stones. she called today with her sisters in the background: two middle-aged women visiting from either side of the continent, drumming up good vibes and the Lighter Side of Things while sharing an inflatable mattress at night and whispering about my mother's condition into their pillows. mum says: my sisters want me to ask you whether you want my mother-of-the-bride dress to match your wedding colors (their main plan is to take my mother shopping. do they wheel my mum into the fitting room and help her raise her arms to try on dress sets? do they make a point to choose function over fashion, or take extra care to find something billowy to hide her oxygen tube?). i tell her i think she knows my answer to that question; does she really have to ask? my mum says there's a good chance the new drugs she's taking will make her hair fall out, so she'll have to buy a wig. she mentions my cousin, daughter of one of the visiting sisters, said she could wear a bejeweled turban. my mum tries to laugh while i try not to cry.

she says the drugs are making her puffy in the face and belly: she'll wear a pant suit. she says she's losing her hair. when i express my upset she repeats the part about the turban, like i missed how funny it is the first time around.

her sisters are visiting for almost two weeks. my mother's family has a good-vibe expiration of three days. i imagine my dad hiding in the garage, the two sisters seated on the couch in the living room watching cable, and my mother in the computer room writing me frivolous emails and calculating how much money she'll save on dye jobs and fancy cuts when she's switched to the turban.

last night i realized it most likely is not going to get better. she'll get puffy, she'll lose her hair. every day i miss spending with her is a chance i miss to see her before things get Really Bad. the next time i see her i might gasp and not be able to hold it together. she'll get uncomfortable and look away. she'll bring up the goddamn turban.

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