In Case You've Wondered

My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.

If you're here for the stories, I started another blog:

One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.

I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.

Monday, July 15, 2013

When The Options Run Out

I'm meeting with a hospice nurse for an assessment of my mother this afternoon. After a downhill run, a weekend of barely responding and watching how the prospect of even moving is a terrible experience, I'm faced with a decision that is mine alone. It's been on my mind for a week and it won't be any easier than when I first contemplated the decision.

I can't describe the importance of now, when it comes to loved ones. There is only this moment and something that seems insignificant, such as a quick phone call, may be the last. You never know and you don't get second chances.


  1. Prayers for you and your mother.

    1. Thank you.

      I've watched my mother slowly drift away for three years. I'd become accustomed to repeating myself, helping with simple tasks and making sure she ate and took her medications. The once self-sufficient woman, with a determination that was admirable left and I now only see a child that finds life a burden without any hope. It's more than saddening and it makes me realize the memories are I have left.

    2. It is so heartbreaking to watch those we love slip away from us. The last time I saw my father, I had to tell him who I was. If I dwell on that part of his life, I am lost. So I remember the man who loved his family beyond all else, who kissed me goodbye when he left for work each day that I lived under his roof and who had an absolutely wicked sense of humor. Cherish your good memories.

  2. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you and for your mom. I'll keep you both in my prayers.

  3. Jess, I am really sorry for you and your mom, too.

  4. This has got to be seriously frightening, knowing that the absolute best you do probably won't be enough -- and that this cup will not be lifted from you.

  5. I've been there, but I also had my sister. Just know that your Mother would be proud of the responsible son she raised. The rest of us are.

    Prayers sent for you and yours.