Mom’s still here. She’s still kickin’. You could’ve fooled my baby sister, though. When she spoke with Mom on my cell phone, Elizabeth could scarcely hear her. “Is she going to die?”, she asked me later.
Amidst her obvious weakness today, Mom had a lot to say; so much that I had to wonder where this lady is on life’s continuum. Does that sound awful?
I am, actually, thinking of myself right now. What position do I take? Perhaps a good analogy would be that I’m a fireman who knows the forest is burning and wonders when his station will be called into action. I can tell you from professional experience that being on “high alert” status for an extended period of time will wear you down all by itself. It’s not the same as actually fighting the fire, but it’s wearing just the same.
That’s what’s happening here. I know that I’m going to have to kick into high gear one of these days, and just when I think this might be the day, there comes another.
I have to live life. When it comes time, I’ll know what to do. In the meantime, I have bills to pay and promises to keep; and Mom has miles to go before she sleeps.
Until and unless something substantive happens, I will not bother you (or me) with another milquetoast ElderBlog post. [The last time I said something like that, Mom went into the hospital two days later. No, I’m not hoping this assertion will accomplish that result.] So it’s back to doing what I do. And if the creative winds blow through my head, I’ll write about it in my other blog: Sunlight Shining Through Cloud.
As for Mom, she celebrated Easter with communion. She flattened a piece of white bread and stuck a straw into a sealed container of prune juice. The body and the blood. Does this sound like the mind of a declining old woman? Me neither.