I am finally back among the living. This last bronch infection really beat the shit out of me. Each one seems a bit worse than the last. Coughing up bloody chunks of lung just ain't fun.
And even when I'm sick in bed, life goes on--the good with the bad.
The good: Last week, I became a great uncle for the second time, against my protestations that I'm still too young to be a great uncle. My niece had another beautiful baby girl. Both are healthy.
The bad: When I was at my parents' after Christmas, as always, I went to see my Aunt Alice, Mom's oldest sister, who partially raised my Mom, so she's always been more like a Grandma. Her Alzheimer's is progressing rapidly. It's hard seeing her decline. She knew me, which has been a fear of mine for the past year or so, since I don't get down to see her more than 2 or 3 times a year. She's been in a Seniors assisted living facility. Other residents said of Aunt Alice, "we can tell she WAS a really caring compasionate person." Hearing her referred to in the past tense when she's not dead is strange.
Monday she had to go to a nursing home, after a short hosptial stay last week. This fucking disease is a theif. It has stolen her life. Antithetical to the last sentence of the previous paragraph, She is no longer alive. There's no quality of life. She's a body that is rapidly losing its soul. IF there was a god, 'he' would take her to her glory, as the bible thumpers are wont to say. She worked hard all of her life. This is not how it should end. It should have ended before reaching this point.
My love of cooking, and skills thereof are a legacy of my Mom and Aunt Alice. She could cook for 3 to 300. She ran a restaurant when I was little, and later was the cook at the my grade and high school cafeterias before she finally retired, to care for my uncle, who had Alzheimer's before he finally died, not knowing any of us. Fucking cruel universe.