I’ve been away. School began. My Mom went into the hospital (for frequent falling). She came out. We went home. I’ve stayed with her since then. She needs 24-hour care. That was early September. How many 184-pound dependant lifts have I done since then? I am sore but so far have been sustained moment by moment by the unfailing strength of the Lord.
Friends, there is nothing in the world I thought about less than toileting before. And now? Now I have left my home, my beloved husband and dog, my role as hostess, my challah-baking, my whole Shabbat group–everything, really–to attend to the bathroom needs of another person. I am bewildered.
And she’s been getting brain radiation (again). The hospital bed, Hoyer lift (if I could ever figure it out), and wheelchair are all part of a quick decline not from the cancer but from the dexamethasone (a steroid) she has been on for too long. Known side effects: the legs give out, the face rounds out.
It’s not the disease, folks, it’s the cure.