To live and laugh-I
On the day a woman learns she has only a short time to live, she meets someone who shows her the humorous side.
This is the day I learned that my life is coming to an end, and that’s all right. Eighty-eight years is more than most people get.
My daughter and I sat in Dr. Barbara’s office. “I have done everything I can for you,” she said, kindness in her voice. “Would you
like me to contact hospice?” Surprised, I didn’t know how to react. The doctor
was looking into my eyes, waiting for a sign of understanding. “They can take care of your needs, enabling you to stay home.”
She paused, and then
said, “Do you know about hospice?”
I said, “Yes, I had hospice when Mia’s dad died.” I was remembering the flurry of activity, almost eight years ago, when a registered nurse and two aides arrived at our home, along with a delivery of a hospital bed, bedside potty, a wheelchair, and a walker.
In no time at all the bed was standing and made up in the living room, the potty was hidden behind a screen, the wheelchair was out of the line of traffic, and the walker was folded and leaned against a wall. Yes, I was acquainted with hospice.
Mia spoke, “Are you telling me my mother has six months to live?”
The doctor transferred her attention to Mia. “No. We don’t say that now.” She looked back at me, “You may live months or a year...” I sensed hesitation in her demeanor. I stood, ready to leave; I needed to go home and talk this over with God.
However, before I could go home, I had to keep an appointment made last week with a beautician, a stranger, since retirement had claimed the operator I was in the habit of using. Maybe the hair-do would give me a lift. ! —1stholistic.com