more about my mother

Not sure why anyone would care to read this but have to share it with someone so there you are. I have inklings of what its like to struggle with doing the simplest things. Like this morning trying to get the battery out of my cell phone. Each time I do it its like the first time. And my mother, locking the door to her room, and unlocking it, and locking it, and unlocking it, just to be sure she remembers how to unlock and lock it. Continue reading


I am in the land of the Golden Girls. I am experiencing the nightmare version of Golden Girls. My mother, 84, is afraid to die. She wants me to be with her. All the time. Who can blame her? I would feel the same way. I do feel the same way. She lives in what is loosely termed Assisted Living. Three times a day, she and a hundred or so other souls with broken bodies or minds sit in their wheelchairs, walkers, or the lucky ones who can stand, waiting for feeding time. Continue reading