You may recall I talked about Slouching Mom’s touching recount of her elderly mother in the hospital.
Her mom is in a nursing home and once again, I could have written much of this myself when my mother was in a nursing home for a while, especially about meal time. For some reason, that’s one of the hardest parts:
Stepping out of the elevator and onto my mother’s floor, I spy her and the other patients eating dinner in the dining room. It is a peculiar and wrenching sight. Fifty people in wheelchairs pulled up to tables. All wearing bibs so they …read more

Slouching Mom has a wonderful post about her aging mother that, especially as a nurse, I can relate all too well:
Instead I stared at the computer screen that blinked above my mother’s head, and I played with the numbers, the blood pressure, the heart rate, the pulse oxygen, adding, subtracting, multiplying them, the arithmetic flooding my brain until there was no room for ambiguities like love, sorrow, pain, and anger.
During my mother’s illness and eventual death, I was good at being a nurse. Nurse, I could do. Motherless daughter, not quite as much.
I monitored her oxygen set-up and her …read more