They said ... "One more"

Loucas entered his mother's room at the usual time of eight in the morning.

He was holding a black plastic bag in his right hand, while sending text messages to his wife on his iPhone with his left.

He quickly sent his final text, then stuffed his phone back into his left pants pocket, flicking on the lights with his left elbow. He placed the bag down onto the night stand beside his mother's bed, then waltzed across the room to the large, double set of glass windows, and pulled back the drapes - allowing the light of the new sun set the room ablaze.

He took a moment to bask in the warmth, letting his mind briefly wander from the cold truth brewing deep inside of his still sleeping mother.

A hoarse cough, accompanied by a low moan, and the rustling of sheets jerked Loucas from his spell, demanding his immediate attention.

He walked back over the night stand, taking one of the two cushioned chairs positioned beneath the windows with him.

Sliding the chair beside the night stand, he began emptying the plastic bag's contents onto his mother's bedside.

Two, twenty-four ounce bottles of Poland Spring water. A tall glass cup with the logo of his mother's favorite sports team, the Boston Celtics, engraved on its side. Three twelve ounce cans of ice cold pineapple Spindrift, his mother's favorite seltzer. A bushel of browning bananas. A freezer bag stuffed with sliced watermelon. Three pouches of squeezable, cinnamon, apple sauce. A ziplock bag of caramelized walnuts, which were his mother's favorite snack. A packet of plastic utensils. A bendable, green, plastic straw. A purple bottle of cough suppressant. A hair brush. Two face towels. A roughly chewed hedgehog dog toy. And an original copy of Loucas' mother's favorite Stephen King novel, Misery.

He began his routine the same way he always had since the day he was told by his mother's doctor that she roughly had one month to live. The doctors had tried to explain to Loucas the complexity of her disease, but he could only sum it up in his mind as being a cross between Alzheimer's and ALS.

His mother was losing control of her body, as well as her mind.

That was three months ago...

...How often are doctor's right?

It was a thought that haunted Loucas every night before he went to sleep, and each morning before visiting his mother in the hospital.

Twisting off the cap to one of the bottles of water, Loucas dabbed one of the face towels, and proceeded to use the damp fabric to wipe away the crusted saliva from the corners of his mother's lips, as well as the sand from her eyes.

Placing the water bottle on the night stand, and the towel on his mother's chest, beneath her chin, he used the brush to comb the black, curly hair away from her face, as well as tending to her bed head.

With her face washed, and hair brushed, she was ready for breakfast.

Before she could safely enjoy her breakfast, Loucas needed to reconfigure her bed so her posture was in the upright position.

Loucas found the appropriate buttons on the side of his mother's bed frame, then proceeded to press the one that was decorated with an upwards arrow. A faint mechanical buzzing filled the room, and Loucas watched as his mother's abdomen slowly rose into the upright position.

Loucas cracked open one of the pineapple Spindrift cans, and poured it into the Boston Celtics glass, allowing the bubbles to sizzle and pop as they rose to the brim. He dropped the green straw into the glass, then brought it to his mother's lips.

Carefully, Loucas inserted the end of the straw between his mother's lips, and he watched as her mahogany eyes realized what was happening. First they went wide, then they settled as she began to suck the seltzer through the straw.

After six short, and slow gulps, Loucas put the glass onto the night stand, peeled back the skin on one of the bananas, and used the plastic knife to cut it into half-inch slices, feeding her one slice at a time.

His mother had a full set of teeth, but her muscle function when it came to chewing was poor, so it took her at least sixty seconds to fully chew, and swallow each piece of banana.

Once his mother was finished with the banana, Loucas yanked open the bag of juicy watermelron and began feeding one of the slices to his mother the same way she used to feed him watermelon as a kid.

He placed the whole slice at her lips, then waited for her to open her mouth. She gently bit down on the juicy red piece of fruit, and Loucas held it there while she used what muscles she could to suck out the delicious juices.

Once she had successfully bitten away a good chunk, Loucas returned the watermelon slice to the bag, used the towel resting on her mother's chest, which caught the dripping excess, to wipe away the red, sticky remnants on her chin.

He then did what he always did after feeding his mother watermelon. He snuck a piece for himself.

His mother, knowing the routine, began to lick her lips.

Loucas knew the sign. Time for dessert.

He poured a handful of the caramelized walnuts into his right hand, then used his left hand to bring them to his mother's lips. Waiting for her to open her mouth, he inserted the small nut between her front molars, making it easy for her to chew, which she did, savoring each, sweet chomp.

He then began alternating the walnuts. Feeding himself one after feeding one to his mother.

Another five minutes passed, and the bag of nuts was empty, save for a dusting of sugar which Loucas poured down his throat.

He then popped open the cap of one of the squeezable apple sauce packets, waited for his mom to stop coughing, then squeezed the sugary sauce down his mother's throat, helping to soothe it after swallowing the dried, candied nuts.

With breakfast over, it was time for her to take her medication.

He broke the seal of the cough medicine, twisted off the cap, then poured a tablespoon onto the plastic spoon. He knew his mother hated this part, as well as the smell, so he gently pinched her nostrils closed with his left index finger, and thumb, then carefully poured the purple liquid into his mother's mouth with his right hand. He then opened the three different pill bottles that were already on the night stand from her doctor, and plopped four of them into the glass of seltzer, allowing them to dissolve. Once the concoction was ready, he brought the green straw to her lips, and she took four large gulps, finishing off the water, and the rest of her meds.

She may have been losing her mind, but something inside of her always allowed her to swallow the medicine without protest.

His mother sighed hard, peered deep into his son's eyes, and fidgeted beneath the covers, indicating that she was ready to lay back down.

This time Loucas found the button on the side of her bed frame that was decorated with a downward arrow, and pressed it until his mother was laying prone.

She sighed again, but this time it was one of relief.

Loucas put the glass, along with everything else back onto the nightstand, then placed the dog toy onto his mother's chest, which she squeezed over, and over, and over. The squeaking sound calmed her nerves, and forced her lips to curve into a bleak, yet memorable smile.

The toy belonged to Loucas's dog, Ellie. She was a two year old Red Golden Retriever which his mother had bought for him and his wife as a wedding present. Ellie and his mother were the greatest of friends, but today he was unable to bring her due to kennel cough, so he brought her hedgehog, which was just as good.

Loucas watched as her mother squeezed the hedgehog without making it squeak, then hugged it tightly to her chest. She then turned over on her right side, and stared into her sons eyes, waiting for her favorite part of her son's visits.

Misery.

Loucas reclined in his seat, found the bookmark, opened the old paperback novel, cleared his throat, and began reading his mother her all time favorite story.

The doctors may have said she only had one month to live, but every second they got to spend with each other felt like a lifetime.