The Patient Person for May 4, 2007

• By BOB ANDERSON
• Advocate staff writer
• Published: May 4, 2007 - Page: 1E

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With a look of contentment, Laurie rests on the couch. Her head in her daughter’s lap, she listens as her son plays her favorite pieces on the guitar and sings to her softly. Sometimes her eyes close, but she’s not asleep. It’s too good of a moment to waste on sleep.

I rub her feet while Sarah strokes her head and shoulders. Such physical attention seems to mean a lot to Laurie these days.

Before relinquishing the guitar to Casey, Sarah sang a song she had written for her mother. Now I see tears in Sarah’s eyes. There’s sadness in the tears, but not anguish. All four of us are glad for this extra time that a week ago we didn’t think we’d have again.

I hope that when God takes Laurie it’s in a moment of such contentment, with those she loves touching her with their hands or voices. A week ago I feared she might leave in a state of agitation, not knowing those who were holding her. Since then she’s been better — calm, in no pain and able to enjoy her family.

As she grows too tired to stay awake, we help her to her bed.

“It was a wonderful evening,” Laurie says in a voice that has become so weak that it’s often hard to hear.

“We’ll do it again tomorrow,” Casey promises.

I sit next to Laurie as Sarah goes upstairs to get some sleep so she can relieve me in the morning. Casey heads for the kitchen to clean up the dinner dishes.

These days Laurie gets whatever food strikes her fancy, even if it means Casey driving to Carter’s Grocery for potato salad or an Icee.

Tonight I put together a special that she’s come to love. It’s a mixture of whipped dreamsicle yogurt, lemon sherbet, fresh strawberries, chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Before she goes to sleep, Laurie talks about how hard her passing is for the kids, who have returned home from Florida and Illinois to be with her in her final days. Sarah and I take around-the-clock shifts with her. Casey spells us, handles the stream of phone calls and keeps the household operating.

Wanting to talk a few minutes before she goes to sleep, Laurie says that as hard as the experience is for our two children in their early 20s, it probably is good for them, adding a difficult step of maturity.

For me it’s been another step in accepting them as adults — adults I know I can count on in even the toughest moments.