T-Mobile is collecting items for soldiers and their families. It's called "Operation Gratitude". My husband saw that "knit and crocheted hats" were on the list, so my recent hat escapades with my Addi circular knitting machine are going to go to a good cause. I think I put 10-12 of them in a bag today. And bought gorgeous hand-painted wool yarn for several more at Goodwill.
My MIL has a morphine pump now, and it's helping her. Some days are worse - FIL says sometimes he thinks she can't possibly last more than a few more hours. And then she rallies, and has a better day. She can push a button for more morphine, but only at set intervals.
The kids and I are still sending her cards every day. To give her a bright spot to look forward to each day. We are all sad and helpless.
I was sorry to do it, but I unfollowed Bo Snerdley today on Twatter, on purpose. There was just one too many retweet or promotion of anti-Trump articles. Which - along with other horrible clickbait - is all he's been doing for a while. I know he has opinions of his own. I just have no idea what they are, and assume the endless retweets eventually constitute a body of evidence.
My oldest brother called today to tell me he heard about my MIL through the family grapevine. He and I almost never talk, so of course my first panicked thought when I saw his name on Caller ID was, oh my God, what's happened now?? But he just wanted to see how we're doing. So of course I cried for 20 minutes.
We visited tonight. She is so much worse. I don't know why she wants to go through all this....medications many multiple times a day, crumpled in a hospital bed, unable to even move her own pillow. No energy to respond to people. And yet....she wants to go on.
I know most people don't want to die. But I don't understand wanting to live when *this* is all life has left for you.
In other news, my mother in law is at home from the hospital. She should probably be in hospice, but they say she doesn't qualify. So she is at home in a hospital bed with a 24/7 caretaker.
She is a frail skeleton of a woman now. She looks 90 year old. She is only 75.
Today I sent her a card - we've been sending them daily now - that said she doesn't need to worry about us: we will be fine. We have a good family that I'm glad to be part of.
I'm not ready for her to go. :(
I rarely log in to Spinster. I find the environment pretty toxic. But this particular post spoke to me.
Just today I saw a thread on Twatter by a trans person who gave this definition of transness: if the person says they are, they are. And that is how you get to this:
This is interesting: secretive unmanned space plane lands after 2 years in space. Nobody is talking about what it’s been doing.
Wife, mom, keeper of animals, creator, author, autist, learner. Conservative in a blue state.
Those who label words as violence do so with the sole purpose of justifying violence against words.