My mother died in early 2012. I wrote some things during that time. This is where they live.

Ancestral Home

Just a short one tonight, I need to be up early to make some calls. Mum’s home, or at least back at my sister’s house (previously our family home). It is going to be a lot harder for us than we had imagined, but it is already better for her. I am concerned about how disjointed the next steps may be - referrals have been made, but we are in free fall until the actors have been identified, particularly the oncologist (yet to be assigned) and the case manager (a social worker, yet to be assigned).
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Wednesday’s child

I forgot to buy a toothbrush, and my electric one ran out of juice half-way through. It is testament to my pathological behaviour patterns that I have never in my life before heard an electric toothbrush run out of power. Today was the toughest day so far. Not because of any particular piece of news - we had the results from the body scan back, and a recommendation from oncology, but nothing definitive.
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Awake

United dropped off my bag today, so I finally got to brush my teeth. But of course I’d forgotten about the power diff, and unlike anything worth anything these days, my electric toothbrush charger can’t step down the current, so I need to get a new toothbrush tomorrow. Oh well. Today was a very mixed bag. Mum was better than yesterday, continuing a positive trend, and we had a lovely time sitting in the Costa Coffee franchise on the ground floor of St.
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Home again

Well, I made it here intact, although my luggage isn’t here yet. It has been a long day. I flew from Toronto to Washington Dulles after a slightly disturbing wait on the plane still at the gate while some dudes in reflective jackets tried switching the plane off and on again a few times all the while on the phone, presumably to tech support. Eventually the plane started working again, and we left.
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Passing the time

When I was 17 years old, my Nan died. She was very old (97) and in many ways her death was welcome - she’d been suffering from Alzheimers disease for several years, probably longer. Her death affected me in strange ways, mostly because she’d lived with us for my whole life to that point. As she fell into infirmity, my mother had more or less sacrificed her own life to take care of her, or so it seemed to me.
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