I sit at my computer in my room tonight so I can be close by while Mom takes her shower. The water is not on very long, and some minutes after she turns it off, she calls for me.
“Jan? Could you come in here a minute? I need help with my buttons.”
I enter the bathroom and there she sits on the toilet seat with her pajamas on but the shirt unbuttoned. I chat with her, trying to make her feel at ease as I button her up.
“What do I do with my towels?” she asks.
“Oh, just leave them there on the floor,” I answer. “I’ll wash them.”
“Do I look alright?” she asks.
“You look fine,” I reassure her.
“I’m so tired,” she comments. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“You’ll want to go back in the living room and sit in your recliner. I’ll heat you up some chocolate Ensure.”
And so now the washing machine is running, a small load of items including the stained long underwear I discovered earlier. Today has been her worst day yet. She eats only a few bites, declares she is not hungry at all, has a hard time getting up from her chair, and is slow and unsteady on her feet.
Is this what the end looks like?
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