I Was Told Not to Call it 'The Home'.

Kick the Can

It's been a difficult week. I had a horrible night bowling on Tuesday. That was bad. Oh, and  Mark had a flare up of his breathing problems. For the last few weeks he has been getting progressively worse, not eating and what he could get down, puking back up. He hates going to the hospital, so I kept waiting until we saw his doctor on Monday. Doctor said, "Get him to the hospital." So, Mark ended up in the intensive care unit. They're having a hell of a time figuring out what his problem is beyond the breathing, but they did send him home yesterday and he is much better than before. He's now eating and not puking. That was a pretty nice turn around for him. Usually the hospital returns him to me worse off than when he went in. So there was that.

Today Mom is moving. She has been asked to give up her three bedroom, two bathroom home for a small apartment in an assisted living community. She's 97 years old and only uses a small portion of that house. In the morning she gets up out of bed, moves seven feet over to her bathroom, then gets on her Hoveround cart and goes out to the television room where she sits and watches television all day. So she only uses a tiny fraction of that house, which is why we got her an apartment where she can do all that stuff and have a nurse right outside her door, just in case. I was out there for my weekly visit yesterday, the last in her old house. She and I have been pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary. We haven't talked at all about her moving, so when my older brother showed up and blurted out that he was there to help her move, I had a silent conniption fit. Mom pretends she doesn't know what's going on, but after my brother said that she decided to start roaming the house on her cart.

"Isn't it nice that I have all this room? I have such a nice big house."

I smiled and nodded.

"Those four pictures on that wall over there are perfect. It's such a big wall."
She then spun the Hoveround a hundred and eighty degrees. 
"I love this window here in the living room. You know I sit here looking out the window quite often."

She doesn't, unless somebody moved the television out to the front yard. Suddenly Mom saw a need to use every square foot of that house, to show me how much she needs it.

I won't be there today when Mom moves to her new digs. That's why my older brother flew up from Florida, to help my sister do the deed. I asked Dave, "What if she refuses to leave and go to the 'home'? Dave assured me that, "She'll go." I know I should be there to help, and I feel a tad guilty letting it all rest upon my siblings, but I have Mark to take care of. Sometimes he is just so handy to have around.