Well, I got on the plane yesterday confident that my mom was feeling better. And she was. But that doesn't mean she wasn't still sick. She went to the doctor at about 4:30 in the afternoon and he admitted her into the hosptial with pneumonia.
I found out about it this afternoon when, after a massage and a pedi and a makeup lesson and some champagne, I went back to my gorgeous suite and checked my voicemail at home.
She sounds good. Eager to hear all about my vacation and tell me how "cheap" Holly Madison looked on Dancing with the Stars. She can't wait to tell the nurse all about my spa holiday and she's already bragged about the thermos of broccoli and cheese my niece sent her (my niece most emphatically does not approve of hospital food) and the plush toys my nephew brought to keep her company. So she is much better than she was last year. But the doctor is being cautious because he wants to treat this rapidly and correctly and get her home by Friday.
So, in all, I'm glad I came. In reality, there's little I could do for her at home that isn't being done, and I think she'd feel worse if she felt I cancelled this because of her. Still, it's hard for me to adjust to the idea of my mom being sick.
So thanks for the good wishes, everyone! Now I must get dressed for dinner in the Versailles Room. Since you are living through me, I feel it's my duty to do right by all of you.