I love Fridays for no particular reason. Weather has been iffy, grass overgrown, humidity high. I forced myself and the lawnmower twice this week, 30 minutes each time, wearing my new knockoff fitbit activity tracker/watch. Haven't worn a watch in years due to metal allergies, Swatches non-exempt. The groundhog ate all of my tomatoes, green. All else thriving especially weeds and I'm not concerned.
What concerns me: my mother at 93 spent most of June in same hospital where my husband was before sub-acute facility, before his sudden death and where I was in and out after pacemaker surgery with complications. Weird for doctors, phlebotomists, nurses, aides and cleaning crew to remember me. I was visiting my mother every day, sometimes twice while packing for a much anticipated ocean vacation. She coded once and I brought her back, an experience I'll not soon forget. Her face blue, eyes vacant, five minutes before she was drinking tea and chatting.
My sister and I are health care advocates together, usually getting along. I think my mother qualifies and would get better care on Hospice, my sister does not, although she conceded to a DNR and DNI in a speaker phone consult with the cardiologist. My sister also refused palliative care. I'm the only sibling who lives close by and generally the one who has to deal with everything regarding my mother.
Wednesday, I visited the assisted living, finding her morose and recalcitrant. She didn't want to eat although I took her down for lunch anyway. She didn't want to go outside but I pushed her in the wheelchair around the building as she noticed two wild bunnies, new outdoor tables, a blue volleyball net, a fence that was worn and grey. She thanked me for loving her and all I could say was, "Oh, Mom."