frighteningly emotionless

I feel that I need to confess this... perhaps writing it down will make it more unreal, as odd as that sounds.

Today my mother went in for a bit of surgery to relieve the pain in her abdomen, caused by the cancer. She now has a colostomy bag, but in no way is that a cure, it's just a small bit of relief in her last few months. Of course, ovarian cancer effects the small intestine, to which a colostomy is not helpful.

My confession is this:
This morning I half expected/hoped/contemplated getting a phone call from the hospital saying there was a complication in surgery and my mother didn't make it...

My rational being that it would be easier in some ways for her death to be a surprise, rather than counting down. Of course, from now on, every time the phone rings it will arouse some hesitancy and I'll wonder if this is "the call." Does this make me a bad person?

I'm not ready to say goodbye, I gave my mother a journal today so she can write down anything she wants. Things I should know, things she wants remembered, her wishes, recipes (I learned my lesson from my dad, he died with his recipe for chicken marinade... I still haven't gotten it right), and just an outlet for her if she wants.

I have also been looking up cruises, my mother loves the sun, the ocean, the beach... and it would be great to take a weekend or so, and give her that experience. She's never been on a cruise before. I'll just probably have to buy a ticket for a nurse too... heh.

I'm too tired to be poetic or profound. I have so much to say, but no coherent way of conveying it.