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WindChill of Ember
Nov. 4th, 2021 09:28 pmI buzzed off to the grocery store this morning. I felt as if I was buying a lot of boutique items rather than the massive units of cheap staples that are my specialty. However, I did score a bag of sweet potatoes that were on sale. And when you see things like oyster sauce and hoisin sauce, you have to buy more than one, because they frequently vanish for weeks at a time. I also found a digital cooking thermometer like the one Deb showed us when we were visiting. I do live in the stone age, but sometimes friends update me.
Then the day kinda went to hell via a phone call from my friend in MN. Today is her husband's 78th birthday. She spent it getting medical power of attorney, filling out forms, and being on long-distance conference calls with the nursing home to try to get him into hospice. For the sake of his privacy, I'm not going to say what's been going on with him, but it's not good, nor is it consonant with a long life expectancy. She wanted to let me know before putting a post on Facebook. She knew it would upset me, both because he was also a friend from Pennsylvania days, and because he's dying from Parkinson's. That was kind of her. Based on what she posted later, hospice didn't work out, at least for the moment, because the nursing home staff think he will get better care on their regular program. After that, I could not revive my spirits. It's that damn bell of John Donne's. I hear it tolling quite a bit these days. Ding ding ding, la la la.
Tron texted to say that they are coming in mid-December, and will stay until the new year. Mr. Science texted to say that his whole family is coming to the Philosopher's wedding. He wanted to make sure we were staying in the same hotel. These are both happy happy things that I'm sure I will enjoy thinking about once the Grim Reaper recedes from view a little bit.
Then the day kinda went to hell via a phone call from my friend in MN. Today is her husband's 78th birthday. She spent it getting medical power of attorney, filling out forms, and being on long-distance conference calls with the nursing home to try to get him into hospice. For the sake of his privacy, I'm not going to say what's been going on with him, but it's not good, nor is it consonant with a long life expectancy. She wanted to let me know before putting a post on Facebook. She knew it would upset me, both because he was also a friend from Pennsylvania days, and because he's dying from Parkinson's. That was kind of her. Based on what she posted later, hospice didn't work out, at least for the moment, because the nursing home staff think he will get better care on their regular program. After that, I could not revive my spirits. It's that damn bell of John Donne's. I hear it tolling quite a bit these days. Ding ding ding, la la la.
Tron texted to say that they are coming in mid-December, and will stay until the new year. Mr. Science texted to say that his whole family is coming to the Philosopher's wedding. He wanted to make sure we were staying in the same hotel. These are both happy happy things that I'm sure I will enjoy thinking about once the Grim Reaper recedes from view a little bit.
