Love in a photograph

X111

Late in March, Ma catches pneumonia. It keeps her in bed for most of the day, which makes her easier to manage, but since they've been snowed in since February, the sound of her coughing and hacking at all hours is inescapable. It's heartbreaking to listen to, and Harry thinks he might lose his mind soon if the snow doesn't melt and give him even the briefest opportunity to get outside.

Gemma is doing all she can to care for Ma, but with no access to a doctor, Ma is only getting sicker and sicker. Harry's terrified that by the time they can get someone to come help, it'll be too late.

The farm is quite pretty, all snowed under like this. Icicles sparkle from every apple tree in the orchard, and the snow forms soft mounds over all the dormant crops and the stables. The pond is frozen solid out in the distance, the snow piled up around it. It looks like a wonderland, like something out of a dream, but Harry still feels like he's living a nightmare.

Post is stopped until the snow melts, which might take until the end of April, at this point. Harry has a stack of letters for Louis in his desk that he hasn't been able to mail, and his heart aches when he thinks of the possibility that Louis's mail hasn't been able to reach him, either. He's been trying not to think of Louis very much, because the thought only makes him sad, but then again, everything makes him sad these days.

Gemma found some potatoes from the harvest the other morning, and they've been eating potato soup ever since. It's good for Ma, or so it seems, since it quells her coughing for a bit after she's eaten, if she chooses to eat.

It's Harry's turn today to try and coax her into getting some food into her system, which is never an easy or painless task. Ma wheezes as Harry sits down on the edge of the bed and spoons her a bit of soup, cupping his hand under her chin so that she won't spill. It takes the better part of an excruciating hour, but Ma manages to choke down a full cup of soup before she falls asleep.

And so the days go, Harry and Gemma switching off responsibilities every other day so that there is at least some variety to their monotonous hell. March turns into April and finally the snow melts, little by little, until the roads are clear enough for travel.

Gemma calls for a doctor who tells them exactly what they already know; Ma is very, very ill, and she'll need a miracle before she recovers. She's been sick for so long now without proper treatment that her lungs are damaged beyond repair, which will make her more susceptible to worse things, like tuberculosis.

Spring brings a mirage of new medical problems. Ma's typical hay fever is debilitating this year, puts her in the hospital for most of May. There's really nothing they can do for her there, but at least everyone feels a little safer with her in the hands of professionals. It's taxing on Gemma's funds, since they don't have a source of income on the farm in the winter, but soon enough the planting season will start and they'll be able to pay off what they can't pay now.

Ma is in and out of the hospital well into the summer, but it takes until the end of June for her to reach the worst of it. She catches tuberculosis from another patient in the hospital and gets even sicker than before, her lungs so weak and diseased it's a wonder she can even breathe at all. Harry has to keep reminding Gemma to stop blaming herself, that this isn't her fault. Ma needed to be in the hospital, she needed the help, and this is just a tragic consequence.

Harry is so wrapped up in it, in the caring and the feeding and the guilt that's clawing away at his own insides, as well, that it's all he can focus on for months. Louis's letters keep coming in the post, slower now that Harry's not responding, but still at least once a month. Harry hasn't even opened any of them since March, a small pile of them forgotten on the kitchen counter where Gemma leaves them.