Barbara J. Hamby

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A Mixed Bag Day

Today was not a writing day. I spent the morning at a hospital, supporting Al. His mother is still under evaluation, but the plan is to take her home tomorrow. She is looking better than I expected and responded to me when I spoke to her. Her prognosis is guarded, however, and she is ready for whatever happens.

Her children, grandchildren, and spouses have circled the wagons to take care of whatever needs to be done to keep her comfortable. Hospice will assist them. Her minister and her many friends will be available also. That is the reward for being a sweet lovable person who has lived a long time.

An email from my long-time friend in Northern Washington let me know that she had a good day today. She felt like cooking, she said. With ovarian cancer, she doesn’t have a lot of good days, so every one is a pleasant surprise.

My son had a good day, also. He signed a new account for his web building business. His ancient van has been revived with a new power steering pump and is running well. His big dog was diagnosed and is receiving treatment for the skin condition that’s been plaguing him, which was caused by a staph infection..

My daughter’s day was not so happy. It was the last day of life for her seventeen-year-old, diabetic, twenty-plus pound cat. She and her husband will not have to go home every twelve hours anymore to inject insulin into Winston, who can now sleep in peace. Winston’s house mate, eighteen years old, will probably mourn the loss, maybe even miss being slapped around by his nemesis.