My son has gone against my wishes and has taken advantage of the FMLA, and I couldn’t be prouder. He went to work the other day and I received a text saying
“I’m coming home and I don’t want to hear anything once I get there, but my place is there.”
We’ve butted heads a few times regarding what being a caretaker consists of because frankly, he was raised in a different world than I but we both recognize that and work around it. He knows it doesn’t mean 8 continuous hours of deep sleep though LOL. All straightened out.
I couldn’t be here without him, so I asked him to, when he gets fed up, to last as long as he can by considering where I’d be and what I’d be doing when he reaches his limit and where I’d be then. For now, I get coffee when I want, and a meal when I can stomach anything. And would he want to be where I’d be going. That should convince him to hang onto me as long as possible.
He’s had more dialogue with my siblings than ever, and that’s a good thing. I have three sisters and brothers within 3 miles of us and we rarely see each other, even pre-Covid, and he’s built on what little relationship they had before. Nice. He went for a driving lesson with my neighbor the other day (I can’t do that anymore) and Mrs Neighbor sat with me while they were out. She’s good company, and has been a damn fine neighbor (and good cook) for years, so that was nice.
The decline. I’m starting to hit the morphine slightly more but am still “undermedicated” by their standards. That’s changing. I’ll likely hit the Diazepam much more also, as there are times where thats the appropriate option. I’m getting a little anxious and stressed also. Dying is some cereal business!
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