Updates...

Minnie passed away Thursday night. Her family was with her. Joe is handling it well. In her obituary I discovered that she's a Canadian, and that her real name is after two beautiful plants. Her family asked that donations to local animal welfare organizations be sent. I love people that do that.

I've visited Martha in the hospital. The first time I got lucky and got there just as they were taking her in for a swallowing test (an x-ray as she swallowed).

Thought they could tell me anything because I'm not family, it was easy to gather that she's aspirating absolutely everything that she swallows.

That's terrifying to me. I've seen people go that way before, and by gosh, I sure didn't want this for my girl.

Yesterday I visited and brought her dentures, her glasses and her rosary. Sweet little Cass had been in and brought her "Charlie", a little green stuffed bear that she had tied to her call light cord. He squeeks when squished, so I'm hoping she thinks to squeek him if she needs help in the hospital.

I talked to her nurse and told her that Martha's dementia makes her panic easily. She can walk, but she's anxious the whole way asking "what are we doing now?" again and again. I told the nurse to break it down into tiny steps for her "put your hands on your walker... lean forward.. stand up". And to reassure her that she won't fall.

When I gave Martha her rosary I said "When my momma' went to the hospital, that was what she always wanted us to bring her... her rosary and her glasses", as I took it out of it's case and handed it to her. "Ohhh", she sighed, so quietly. "I'll say a prayer for her, too." This choked me up.

Last night after I finished my work, I had Gab take my tempurature, which was 100.2, and I left. I'm pretty sure I just have hot ears and wasn't sick, but I took advantage and called in today. I needed a mental health day after these past few...

Instead I went to my step-daughter's house and cleaned her appalling kitchen. Dean scolds her and asks "WHY don't you get busy and clean?". But I know why she can't, even if I can't really put it into words. What I do, after he scolds, is hug her and say "You need to decide that you deserve a clean comfortable house to relax in". She looks up with huge blue eyes, dark circled, and says "That's the hard part." She has three kids, and they are a handful. I love them, but these are not easy, low maintenance kids. They are messy, noisey, and occasionally naughty. This doesn't mean I love them any less, but only that I have empathy with her because sometimes things are more complicated than just scrubbing your floors.