Monday, August 17, 2015 

Been a long summer. Mom was signed up with hospice, but I don’t know how long that will last. Hospice provides a valuable service and gives me much-needed moments of respite. Mom, however, is far too healthy to be considered on the decline, at least actively speaking. Of course, she has her good days and her bad days. Don’t we all.

Hasn’t been a terribly hot summer, but yesterday, was an exception. I was at the farm, serving as a docent for the main farmhouse. It was blisteringly hot. Breathtakingly hot. Boiling hot. Un-bearably hot—there’s a “b” in there to sustain this alliteration. And it wasn’t a good day for me.

But for mom, heat is a blessing. She starts every morning with the same question: “Is it cold outside?” I often remind her that it’s summer, but with her native cleverness she replies, “That doesn’t matter. It can be cold in the summer.” So I lose that argument. Yet, trying to convince her that it’s warm or hot outside isn’t easy. Merely noting the temperature does nothing to persuade her. Mom is naturally cold these days—hands and feet especially. She often asks to wear her Polartec jacket on the worst days. Of course, we do have A/C; however, seeing her dress for autumn does nothing to make anyone around her more comfortable. Yet can serve as a reminder of more comfortable days ahead.

Venous insufficiency is a bear. What’s comfortable for me is not necessarily comfortable for her. Nonetheless, the disparity in sensing the heat can become a point of frustration. Like everything else, I see something one way and mom sees it another. Some things never change.