I often type blogs when either my state of rest or my state if vision is such that I'm barely qulified to fluch a toilet, much less to write anything that someone else might actually read. A particular day in November was one such day. The edited version reappears here in the event that you saw the original version. http://alexisar.blogspot.com/2017/11/over-river-and-whrough-woods-change-of.html While I cannot guarantee that the editing job was perfect, as i do have ointment in my eyes, I can verify that the blog does not contain the word covfefe.
The blog was written an the conclusionof an emotionally taxing day. I don't remember everything about the day, but what I dio remember is that itsevents underscored for me the point that one day -- sooner raher tha later for mny of us -- we'e going to be making medical decisions for our parents. For me, it may be later rather than sooner. My mom and dad are 52 and 53 respecitvely, and they're a young 52 and 53. Still, things happen, and my brother and I may be forced in the positions of holding power-of-attorney and of making ife-altering choices sonner than we're prepared to do so.
It doesn't seem quite right. It was a mere nine yearsw ago, I believe, when my dad snuck into my room in the wee hours of the morning to administer a flu immunixation while I was still sleeping that I had steadfastly refused to be given. His choice had been to hogtie me or to give me the shot before I was alert enough to do anything about it. My response was to wake up the entire neighborhoodeith my screaming tirade. Now, I could be doing the very same thing to him within a relatively short number of years.
From my point of view, we as humans grow up too slowly but grow old too rapidly. I don't want things to change in this way. I want my parents to remain in the primes of their lives forever. Alas, what I want and what are likely to happen may be two very different things.
It wasn't all that long ago in the grand scheme of things that my brother was, in a voice laden with both threatening and glee, reminding my parents -- my father in particular -- that he, my brother, would be the one who selected my dad's retirement facility, so my father would be wise to take that into account when making choices involving my brother between now and then. Now it's something even my brother doesn't relish. We both hope it never happens. It's peculiar how much a person's perspective can change in such a relatively short period of time.