Thursday was a day from hell. I did nothing but drink clear juices and sucked on a few hard candies, but I wouldn't have cared if I could have just slept the day away and would have, except I got several phone calls. I don't remember much about the phone calls, nor do I remember being hungry, then came the time to start drinking the prep. I was already in physical and mental pain, and now my stomach was cramping up like crazy. I didn't get far from a toilet all evening and into the night, and my rear end was on fire.
My dear mother called and said she'd pick me up at 7:30 in the morning to take me to the hospital, and I tearfully told her my little girl had gone back home. I told her I'd feel better about it if I knew things would work out. My mom knew how hard I'd worked to help her, and we prayed together on the phone. My mom is another saint like my dad. I am so grateful to have both my parents to still lean on at my age. I don't know what I'll do without either of them. My brother, sister, and I were raised with love and good sense. I am so fortunate.