The most dramatic moment of my day yesterday was when I watched three burly maintenance workers armed with sticks struggling to encourage an angry snapping turtle to move off a sidewalk and back to the nearby lake. In a week devoted almost entirely to inactivity, I'll take my entertainment where I can find it.
We moved Mom into home hospice care yesterday, which delighted her: no more tube down her nose, no more needles and IVs, no more hospital. Now she's ensconced in a hospital bed in her own living room, where she can see her flowers and cards and photos of beloved family members, while the rest of us can rest more easily knowing that she's getting the care she needs. She says she's not in pain and I'm trying to believe her, but we have pain medications just in case. Meanwhile, we're doing a lot of sitting and waiting, sitting and talking, sitting and reading, or just sitting.
I'm committed to staying until the end of the week and then I'll assess the situation and see what I need to do. I need to get back to Ohio before my new grandson is born, but neither birth nor death can be forced to conform to my schedule. So I'm working on my waiting skills, even if sometimes I'm tempted to snap like that angry turtle. I keep telling myself: Be the lake, not the turtle. So far it's working, but if you see a bunch of maintenance workers coming my way with sticks, you'll know I finally snapped.
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