Mom, not dead, getting better, but.....

I realize that not many people want to read about my mother, so feel free to skip this.  Today she moved back into her little apartment at the retirement home but we are all on high alert to see what happens, how she does. She is very weak but alert. She is cautiously mobile.  She does not want to have another small stroke and hopes that if she has another stroke it takes her out. She is realistic.  Sort of.

So much is involved in this process.... not just getting her in and out of the hospital and then the rehab place but getting her back into her apartment, finding a care person to help her a couple of hours a day, convincing her that she has to stop, breathe and wait before moving.  And so much more, like finding a place for her here in Sonoma County, which is another kind of chore and journey.

But right now she is OK. She is sort of like the Mom we wished we had as kids. (At least Steve and I think that.) She is sweet and funny and self deprecating and sort of nice to be around for an hour or so.  We don't know what will happen, but no one does.

If nothing else, this entire experience has made me really think about life, death and the yawning gap in-between. And about getting old and about not wanting to be in a "place" and the conversation I need to have with my kids (and siblings) about my old age scenario and about theirs.  I think about my 4 brothers, three who are not married and no kids in the mix. Who are they going to depend on?  But then, I don't want to depend on my kids, so maybe they are better off in that regard. And they (we) are not alone; our Baby Boom Generation has so many unmarried, unattached people who are just now starting to contemplate their old age future. It ain't pretty and as we all, all millions of us, get older and older, it will get even less pretty.   The smart thing to do would be to buy a big house somewhere cheap, but close to a hospital, and eventually we could all live there, with a live-in nurse.  And a kind, old gentleman like Dr. Kevorkian who would supply us with flavorful Kool-Aid. You know what I mean.

On it goes.  But hey, every day I thank my lucky stars I don't live in Gaza or in Syria or in parts of Africa.  How is it that some get born here, with perks like water, and so many others get born in terror, poverty, fear and crisis?   It's the unanswerable question.

.