It seems that whenever I disappear, something truly horrible is going on.
In this case, it’s my aunt – my mother’s sister.
Look: my folks are both dead. I have very little family left. My aunt Jane has ALS – a deeply aggressive variant – and she needs help.
So, like before, I choose to put aside my personal projects.
I’ve been in her home for the last three years, taking care of her there, but that’s no longer feasible; the stairs, the narrowness of the doorways precluding a wheelchair…
We’re taking her in. Here, in Texas; we can’t do it in NYC, much as we love the place. Our 550-square-foot apartment is too small.
Hospice will be coming to the home once or twice a week, but her care will be entirely on me. She literally can’t even hold a fork.
(As an aside, healthcare in this country suuuuucks.)
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I don’t know how I’ve done it so far.
I will do this. I have to.