The sons are obviously starting to pay attention. The older one
got me some small tools, all ones that I can actually use. And the
younger son got me a four-cup Mr Coffee coffee maker. And was pvided a
tasty meal at the older son's place. Life is basically good.
Hope everyone had as pleasant a holiday.
If you can read this you're in range.
On Dec 25, 10:41 pm, email@example.com (J T) wrote:
Very nice here, with 11 people crowded into this small house...the
dining room table comfortably holds six, so it was fortunate we had a
brunch that lasted until 3 p.m., from about 9:30. The dog was in hog
heaven: 16 pounds of ecstasy with that many hands to pet her every
time she sat up on her hind legs or rolled over.
Everything I got either fit or was useful, probably a new record.
For some reason, no one gives me tools.
Hey, I pulled out the old Class A green blouse t'other day. I can
barely even get an ARM in the thing now, and I was no midget when they
fitted that one to me. I'm surprised the moths haven't gnawed it to
bits, with 25 years in my mother's attic or closet, and 20+ years now
in my basement storage. That thing is getting OLD!
With all the cooks in the family, food doesn't often get given, but
there are always too many cakes and pies baked, and Frances found a
new blueberry crisp "breakfast" dessert recipe for this year. That is
most definitely not a sensible tradition to start, but, damn, it
tastes good, especially with a little top quality French vanilla on
Yep, once again know the feeling. Don't know why, but I still have both a
set of class A's, and dress blue's, hanging in my closet, way in the back
.... just looking has resulted in my resisting the temptation to even so
much as put an arm in a sleeve for at least 30 years now.
Actually, I've snuck 'em into Goodwill's bag a time or two in years past,
but got caught. I've suspected that SWMBO has, as of yet unspoken, plans to
bury me in one or the other ... I wish her the best of luck in that
... a tee shirt, cargo shorts and a pair of crocks would be much more
fitting, literally. ;)
Under extreme extenuating and mitigating circumstances ... in-laws ... I've
pretty well singlehandedly killed a gift bottle of "Pennsylvania Dutch Egg
Nog" in the past three evenings... the three kinds of alcohol surely makes
it low fat, eh?
I quit drinking long ago, but as I recall, three kinds of alcohol was
how I got in a LOT of trouble!
Eggnog breakfast, a sip of Wild Turkey for lunch, and Courvoisier at
dinner. Sounds pretty good to me if my health would allow it. I think
it was the between meal snacking that did me in.
SFWIW, still have a pullover sweater from 50 years ago that I can get
my robust body into.
You betcha it's tight, but that doesn't count.
The bloody thing was very expensive at the time, but in hindsight, it
certainly doesn't owe me anything.
Mine are both 86 and alive. But my dad had NO clue who my mother was
when we tried to have a Christmas dinner. She sadly mentioned that
she'd have an easier time of dealing with him dead than this way....
kinda made all the presents non-significant, eh?
Have the best New Year you know how....
My mother, who will be 103 in April, has been in a nursing home since
suffering a compound fracture of her right leg, just above the ankle,
Her mind is still sharp, but the body is shot.
Just this week, thanks to the internet, was able to arrange a visit
for her to see her 85 year old nephew, 93 year old niece and their
spouces, who live about 300 miles away, and whom she hadn't seen in at
least 20 years.
At the end of the visit, the parting comments to my mother were, "See
you in heaven aunt Bert".
Gives you something to think about.
Man, this hits home ... we've been up here the past week taking care of
SWMBO's father, bedridden with stage 4 lung/bone/spine cancer. While I've
been doing the "heavy lifting" to take the pressure off SWMBO, it's she who
will have to carry the ball by herself when I go back tomorrow ... sure
hate to leave her to face that alone, but there's no choice in the matter.
We briefly got him to the dinner table in a wheelchair for Christmas dinner
... a sight which indeed put some of the "Merry" back into this particular
Christmas, if only for a brief time.
(He whispered in my ear yesterday afternoon, as I helped in back into bed
after a trip to the hospital: "you should just go ahead and shoot yourself
when you get in this shape."
Although I doubt he is mobile enough to reach them ... I removed all his
guns from the house last night. Another chapter in a life closed.
But all this proves there is life after death - your SWMBO (and her
siblings if she has any) is/are the proof.
I remember my grandfather asking me to leave a razor blade on the night
stand for him. He was going down to prostate cancer - I was sixteen.
Didn't do it, but I understand his request more every year as I approach
the inevitable and after going through a removal of a foot of large
I'm kind of ambiguous about this part of dying. Having had a fairly serious
disability for the 25 years and experiencing more and increasingly affecting
problems the past several years, I know that when my time comes I'll have a
really difficult time of it and there's every chance it won't be a quick
process. I think I'd rather end it myself while I was still able to do so.
The difficult part will be realizing that my time *has* actually come and
doing what I want to do. So far, every time I've gone into the hospital,
I've come out again after a certain period and one expects the eventual
hospital discharge to continue. One of these times it won't and it will be
too late for me to do anything about it.
My sympathies with your SWMBO, Swingman.
As with your situation, Upscale.
A few years ago, my aunt was dying of
cancer and my Mom came to visit her for
a while to help out. My aunt had amassed
enough prescription medication to knock
out a small borough in NYC and was
prepared to down the whole bundle and
call it a day. My mother found out and
intervened, but she's questioned her
action ever since.
Shortly afterward she went into
palliative care and said something
similar to your FIL, Swing. She looked
at me and said, "Don't ever let yourself
get into this kind of situation." It was
clear what she meant. God-fearing,
religious, AND a good woman to boot, but
in the end she wanted to write her own
Life sucks and then you die is the maxim
of a pessimist. For me, life certainly
doesn't suck, but sometimes the manner
of death does.
No easy answers, but sometimes decisions
which seem plain wrong........aren't.
I indeed sympathize with the sentiment. In this case, and in the remote
possibility, I just didn't want SWMBO to have to deal with the aftermath of
that scenario. I've dealt with a few suicides, both friends and family, and
the anguish, and anger, that it leaves behind made the act seem selfish in
Summer before last the family was writing our mother off. It very seriously
didn't look good for her. She's bounced back and, at 85, beat me into the
local Chinese restaurant for dinner a couple of weeks back.
... one of the problems with life is that you never know.
This I understand and agree with fully. I remember when my father's time had
come and he was in the hospital, he requested that I go upstairs into his
study to deal with or remove a number of things that he didn't want my
mother to have to handle. Even back then, I was using the wheelchair. One
day when I know my mother would be out for a considerable amount of time, I
dragged my butt up the stairs pulling the wheelchair after me and took care
of everything he asked me to do. Even to this day, twenty years later, I
remember every single thing I did at the time.
Sat, Dec 29, 2007, 9:14am (EST-1) firstname.lastname@example.org (Swingman) doth sayeth:
<snip> Although I doubt he is mobile enough to reach them ... I removed
all his guns from the house last night. Another chapter in a life
On a scale of from 1 to 10, the 10 being not committing suicide,
I'm probably at least at 12 on the sacle. However, if it was me, I'd be
prepared if it was a similar scenario - I might not be able to get to
it, but I can pretty much guarantee you that you wouldn't find all my
guns. Personally I think if it was me, I'd quite well ask my doctor to
pull the plug for me.
If you can read this you're in range.
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