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Endgame

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  That was fast. Mom went into hospice two and a half weeks ago.  In that time, she's been switched from hydrocodone to morphine.  When we were talking to the nurse about her pain, Mom mentioned that she didn't care for hydrocodone, but she did like morphine.  With a devilish little smile, no less.  The nurse laughed and said "We can do that," and Mom replied "Yes, please!"  She was started on morphine and was a bit more comfortable, but still had pain - so a few days later, her dose was doubled, giving her two extended release doses, and up to three doses (1 every 8 hours) of fast-acting morphine for breakthrough pain.  At that level, she was taking two out of the three breakthrough doses - and still having pain.  I asked her if she wanted to up her dosage again and she said yes, but she didn't want to turn into a junkie.  I told her - we're only giving you as much as it takes to get rid of your pain; we just don't know what that is yet - so...
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Changes

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For the last year and a bit, my life has pretty much consisted of work, taking care of Mom's needs and doctor appointments, church, and passing out from exhaustion. That last one is no joke.  I make plans to work in my yard or get something done, sit down and hours later, I wake up, having missed most of the day, or the whole evening.  My house is a wreck, my yard is scraggly, and the plants I was so happy to have growing are on their last legs, and not because it's fall.   I've put on weight and lost muscle tone because it seems I'm always sitting.  Work.  Doctor's offices.  Driving from one place to another.  And it's mentally exhausting, so by the time I get back home, the rest of me is too tired to do much. The doctor visits seem to be never-ending.  Wound care, pain management, dentist, urologist, regular doctor for various ailments.  And the middle of the night phone calls because she's fallen and is headed for the Emergency Room. ...
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Small Blessings and Clean Teeth

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  Two haircuts in one week!  Dare I hope that they are on a similar schedule now?  I love Mom's short brushy hair.  I cut it very short, as it doesn't really matter what it looks like - she wears a beanie all the time and no one ever sees her hair.  This short cut makes it easier to manage though, which counts for a lot.  Dad's hair is a bit trickier and I never seem to cut it the same way twice, but I'm particularly pleased at how this cut came out.   Dad looked at the side by side pictures on FaceBook and got a bit weepy.  Mom's aging seems to be accelerating and his almost looks to be going younger.   Of course, there is reason for that.  While Dad is living a normal life doing most of the things he wants to do, Mom is not.  She is confined in a facility that can take care of her in her declining mental and physical state.  It is a very good place, with people who care and are endlessly patient and kind with the folks w...
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Ho-hum, ho-hum - TORNADO!

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  It's been pretty quiet and perhaps even boring around here lately.  I continue to take Mom to her weekly wound-care appointments.  Her toes are healing up nicely.  Her shin hurts and she wants a big puffy bandaid on it all the time.  It doesn't hurt anything, so like a toddler asking for a dinosaur bandaid, Mom gets her puffy bandage changed once a week.  She has dubbed her wound care doctor "Doctor Sweetie Pie", which tickles him no end.  She can't remember his real name, so Sweetie Pie it is. The home put on a Mother's Day luncheon that was pretty spiffy.  Dad and I came and lunched with her.  Nothing too fancy (but the appetizer was amazing).  I cut up Mom's chicken and salmon for her and she ate almost everything except the asparagus, which Dad helped with.   I did not go visit her on Mother's Day.  I figured that after all the brother visits, she'd be exhausted.  John and Mary went and facilitated video calls with A...
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Vanity

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  Vanity.   We all have it to one degree or another.   I was chatting with Dad the other day about a wedding I helped with.   Both the bride and groom were older (he was nearly 90 and she was north of 70).   He looked his age, and she… seemed ageless.   Definitely an older woman, but so well put together that it was hard to nail down how old she might actually be.   Her hair was perfect, she was dressed impeccably and her skin was just the right kind of softness – not too tight, not too loose.   I remember thinking that this was the kind of woman I wanted to be when I got to that age. I’m not that old yet, but I’m getting there.   Over 60, under 70, and about to gain another year under my belt.   And I realized that I do not have what it takes to do that kind of maintenance.   For one thing, my hair is definitely not cooperating.   It’s so thin on top than you can see my skull through it, scalp shining away.   I don’t ...
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