Life of late seems like adjusting to a series of new "normals" -- life before Mama J. Life since November. And now, this, the aftermath of last week. Mom's new normal includes a set of sitters/caregivers, both live and virtual. After her fall and a conversation with her primary hospice nurse, we realized that she… Continue reading Aftermath
"I need help." When your mom calls you at 9 at night, and you hear those words in a choked voice, you do not ask questions. You grab your keys and drive three blocks as fast as you possibly can. We got to Mama J's to find her standing up, bent over the back of… Continue reading Travelers
This weekend we had a couple of oxygen mishaps, one funny and two decidedly not so. The funny oxygen mishap was me sitting on a spare oxygen tank in the back seat of the car, depressing the lever and getting goosed by a strong "whoosh!" of cold air. B and Mama J and I got a… Continue reading Oh (2), oxygen
When she was a girl, Mama J participated in a Bohemian/Czech youth gymnastics program called Sokol. She always had lovely legs, and I still see the grace in her limbs. Next post: Oh (2), oxygen
To wear pink hair chalk to match your sweater. To talk to your daughter's mother-in-law about your poop chart. Extensively. Seriously, say "poop" one more time. ... to be embarrassed by your mother. 🙂 Next post: Grace, Part 2
This past Sunday was Boy Scout Sunday nationwide, and Mom wanted to go. She called her scouting friend who lives in Baton Rouge, found out which church had an affiliated troop, and made arrangements with the Scoutmaster. She asked Brian to iron her skirt and me to buy her a new brown belt. "To do… Continue reading On my honor …
I very nearly fell apart on Thursday. Sometimes the cause of the near-falling apart is not the real reason, which is what I think happened on Thursday. Anyway. I'll get to that in a bit. The short(ish) backdrop is that Mom had an eye appointment a couple of weeks ago during which the optometrist told… Continue reading Falling apart
Some days this is how I see her, a blur of her old self, fading away in front of me. Other days, as my friend @galumbaugh says, she is the "hardiest dying person I've ever seen." Next post: Falling apart
When I was growing up, and even into adulthood, it bothered me to no end that I didn't look like either of my parents. My twin brother Mike is the spitting image of our dad, right down to his mannerisms. And my younger brother Robert shares my Mom's ears, nose, and square jawline. Both inherited… Continue reading My mama’s hands
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