She had been in a nursing home for several years, deteriorating at a snail’s pace. On my annual visits, my brother and I would question the wisdom of stockpiling old people in places like this.
From where he sits on the sofa, Vivaldi on the portable CD player next to him, he sees everything but can make sense of nothing. His home gleams. Not a spot of dust anywhere. His wife, with nothing else to do but care for him, has become obsessive. Dust she can control. A husband whose mind deteriorates a little more each day is beyond her.
There’s a long pause on my end while I try to process the fact that her husband is under hospice care, but apparently well enough to need condoms. I silently wonder if those are covered by Medicare. And I secretly think he deserves a high five.
All my mother has inspired me to do is to be as much not like her as I possibly can. So maybe she has inspired me and I’m thankful for that.
7/1/08 Today Matt called. Kevin came over. Mom and I went to the bank in Monett and emptied out the safe deposit box. No POA in there, mostly stuff about the house, closing docs and a copy of that trust doc which is their will. I only had one key,…
