Palliative Care

A couple of you ( the two that read but don't comment...don't look innocently around; you know who you are) know that my mother has been very ill for the last few weeks. Well, today I get to decide whether or not to keep the fluid IV going. She's not aware of much. She hasn't eaten in weeks and won't keep a feeding tube in, so that was nixed a while back. She hasn't taken her regular medication for days. We're at the end of the line here. When I told my mother I would be the decision maker ( or is it "decider"..lol ), I knew it would be a crummy job. And it truly is a crummy job. I keep wondering if I should put a Danby marble urn on hold at Brewster's. I need one for her so she and dad are a matching pair, for bookends. Seriously. And she knew this. And thought it was a great idea.

I'm tired. I want to sleep all the time. Stress is exhausting. Even The Minion mentioned that I look awful. Sweet boy that he is. The only way I'm remaining sane through this emotional shit-storm is to think of things like the following:

Has anyone ever wondered why the numbers on phonepads and remotes are the reverse direction on a calculator? That bit of weird has been bugging me for days.