Nothing makes you feel truly powerless like watching someone die. Slowly. Painfully.

Just sitting at my mom's bedside. She's snoozing now, after a rough morning. It's time to up her long acting medication again, so we're doing the liquid morphine shuffle till the nurse comes tomorrow. Mom keeps thinking she needs to be doing something. Wants to see a doctor because she doesn't feel right. Doesn't understand why this isn't getting better. Underneath the opiate haze, she knows and understands. She keeps saying she's ready. Feels ashamed that she wants to die, is wishing for it. Worries that she will be punished for not being strong enough. Worries that this is punishment for something she did. Thinks if she suffers more, she can atone for whatever she's done wrong. She was raised Catholic, but never has been in my life (50+ yrs). Can't get away from that early training. So hard to see her suffer.