Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it’s already October. Holy crap, Batman. I would love to be beamed to a beach right now. Any beach. Okay, not really ANY beach. One with clear turquoise water that I can stand in and see my feet with a lot of space for walking. Maybe a nice beach bar that serves cute little rummy drinks, with or without the umbrella. And really great fresh seafood and fresh vegetables. I am eating like crap when I do eat. I have no time to cook. I am so tired. Seriously, I need a beach.

Mom got up yesterday morning and announced it was the day she would die. Hmmm, probably not today. But, I ran right over to see what was going on. She was crying inconsolably……She saw Maria Bishop in the afternoon and we talked about everything. She is having a very hard time just sitting up in the chair for any length of time and will inevitably spend more and more time in bed as time goes on. Mom got a referral for hospice at the appointment and they will probably come to her at Handmaker. She does not seem to qualify for inpatient hospice. No pain, no nausea or vomiting, shortness of breath or difficulty swallowing. That means she will be charged for hospice on top of the $274 per day, but who cares. It’s only money and you really can’t take it with you. The astounding thing to me today was that at the bank they told me if she has to use money from her C.D.’s we have to make a case for releasing the money. Nice. It’s hers. That is what it is there for. Fucking bankers.

I was in and out of her room from 10 in the morning to 6:30 in the evening, mainly in. Tyler and I got home, had one drink, one cigarette and were called back to Handmaker again because she wanted oatmeal. Somebody shoot me. You would think they could do oatmeal at any time, but apparently not. So, no dinner at home, again.

I woke up at 5:00, and we all know how I feel about getting up that early. But, may as well, I have to be back at Handmaker by 9, and would love to throw something in the crockpot before I go. I will eat at home today if it kills me. We are spending a small fortune on restaurant meals and instead of losing weight before the wedding, I am gaining it. Great.

I wish I had more positive stuff to say today but between mom’s condition and my exhaustion, I’m not seeing a lot of positive. Every time her doctor, social worker or case manager ask me how I’m doing, I smile and say I’m fine. I am not fine. Why can’t I just say that to someone when they ask? Probably because if I say it out loud, I can’t go back and pretend I AM fine. Sweet Jesus, this sucks.