It's a beautiful Sunday afternoon, sunny and warm, with low humidity. Mom and her cat, Georgie, are lounging on their screened porch. Mom asked me, "Is your mother at home today?"
I re-read Mom the letter she got this week from her 95-year-old friend in Canada. His family operates a marina on Georgian Bay. He wrote that his son, while weeding the flower bed, was startled to see a black bear mosey by. The bear paid him no heed. A black bear has been sighted around here in recent weeks as well. He ambled through nearby Anne Arundel County and ended up in Arbutus, a suburb of Baltimore, where he was shot with a tranquilizing dart. This bear has been borne away to an "undisclosed location" in western Maryland.
Summer is a-going out. The shadows are longer, the afternoon sun not quite as bright. Brown-leafed black-eyed susans are giving way to goldenrod. Phil says our last evening primrose will bloom tonight.
Mom told Phil the other day that she'll be gone in another six months. We went this week to have her hair washed, even though "those girls don't know how to do my hair." She brings a vial of hot-oil treatment with her to the salon. Should I order more? We have enough for just three or four more monthly visits.
Tomorrow I am taking her to the dentist. When we leave, the receptionist will make an appointment for February. Will Mom still be around then?
A 90-day supply of her heart pills just arrived by mail.
I find myself asking, "Will this prescription have to be refilled?"
I can remember when my mother had to care for Grandma after her strokes. Near the end, she had the mentality of a four year old. It was very tough on us.
ReplyDeleteIt's wonderful that your able to care for her.
Today I was cleaning my office and I found a receipt for a vet bill for Felanie, who you may remember died earlier this year. It was for the standard annual checkup, which I had decided to have done despite her terminal cancer diagnosis. It felt silly at the time to spend money and effort on something like that, but it did help to continue with "business as usual," even if I did wonder the whole time whether I was just wasting money. Fel didn't live to finish the bottle of arthritis pills or incontinence pills or any of the other things I bought under the guise of "business as usual." But it made me feel better to pretend like she had a future.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I know this is a rather weak comparison to your situation (I haven't yet had a close relative pass away, at least not since I became a responsible adult)... but I definitely understand what you're feeling. It really is extremely difficult and painful.