It Takes a Lot of Medicine

I got beautified yesterday.  Hadn't been since October.  I was looking more than a little Wild West/Buffalo Bill Cody.  The beautician improved me once again.  We talked.  I didn't really want to talk all about my mother, but she had plenty of things she wanted to say.  So I mostly listened.  

Went in at ten, out at one.  I went to see my mother.  Oy!  I finally said to her, "Has there been one good thing that has happened to you today?"  

She wanted to know when she was going home.  That is her mantra.  For me, the question sounds like, "When are you going to spend all your life taking care of me again?"  

"You've only been here a few days--I don't know what to say.  We have an evaluation meeting on Monday.  Probably then."

"I've got another week?"

I could get them to keep her there for over a hundred days, of course.  I argued and argued to get her into the Four Seasons Rehab Facility, but. . . . 

And so, my day was pretty ruined.  I was going to go to the gym after seeing her, but I couldn't manage to pluck up the energy when I left.  

This morning, the neuralgia is back.  Head to toe agony.  

"The pills, the pills."

Driving back from my visit with mother, I heard this song.  Yea.  Seems true enough.  

All things come, and all things pass.

It takes a lot of medicine to go this fast.