In a nutshell

How it started

How it ended

This is my bike trip in a nutshell -- 6 riding days, 340 miles. There will be a day when I'm too old for this. Right now, though, despite the pain, the wind, the hills, I'm ready to go again.

Last weekend, not to be only about biking, I did the MS Ride -- and thank you to all those who contributed!-- which, designed to be 75 miles x 2, was shortened to about 60 the second day on account of the heat. I must have looked my age, because at almost every single rest stop, one of the staff people would come up to me and say, "How do you feel?"

"Fine," I would say.

But I wanted to ask, Well, how do I look? I sweat big-time, and my face glows bright red, and I must have looked tapped out the whole second day.

Mom's big week -- the best week she's had in a couple years, probably -- has left her bereft. As Sister S has so concisely put it, "Was it worth it?" S says:

"After the high of FF, Mom seems almost more miserable than ever. She does not understand how she ended up there, at (her place), and desperately wants to "go home," where Sister L and I took turns sleeping with her, helping her make it to the bathroom and back in the night, giving her her meds, spending our every waking minute attending to her."

So, see, this is the new standard. Anything less than that is misery.

She has called me and the sisters in various modes of crisis, wondering what the plan is, wondering how she got moved to this new room that looks exactly like the old room, wondering when she'll go home. She has made reasonable calls too, checking, for example, what time I'll pick her up for church. But in general I think we see a skewed picture, because I think she calls mostly when she feels bad, and we don't hear much about days that go well.

Today's church went fine, although she slept (so did I). Back in her room, though, I wondered how long she'd last in assisted care. (Skilled nursing would be next, a nurse present 24 hours.)  Julie had to help her going to the bathroom -- I mean, completely help her -- and we both wondered how it goes when no one is with her. We helped her into her bed, and she kept up a series of hopes/commands that she wants somebody with her all the time. Like on her trip.

We have all explained the problem with that -- chiefly, that we work, and secondarily, that we likely couldn't stand it. She says it wouldn't have to be one of us -- like what about Ca, who took care of my dad, and then my mom, before she moved. Why, she should be able to move here; maybe she needs a job!

That is ludicrous, but I will look into paying for some more face-on time.

There will be ups and downs, but this will never get any better. Parkinson's is an awful thing. I say to myself, "I'm never going to be like that." But she said that, too.