Times are tough.  You may have lost your job.  If employed, you may be scraping by from one paycheck to the next.  Your retirement savings have probably been reduced by half.
    I recently returned from visiting my mother for five days.  In April of 2008, Mom had open-heart surgery to repair an ascending aortic aneurysm and replace a 22-year-old mechanical valve with a human one.  She lived to celebrate her 60th Wedding Anniversary with my father in June of 2008.  Now, eleven months later, Mom is dying from congestive heart failure and there’s nothing more anyone can do for her.
    In these tough times, here are some things I’ve been taking for granted.
Along with me, you can be thankful if:

• You can sleep more than two hours without needing to use the bathroom
• You can sleep through the night without wondering if it’s time for breakfast yet or time to get up
• It takes you less than 2 hours to eat breakfast, take your vitamins/medicine, and use the bathroom
• You can drink whatever you like and don’t have to consume 4 High Protein Boosts per day

• You can use the bathroom quickly and without assistance
• You don’t need to take special medication because your digestive track doesn’t work properly any more
• You can walk without using a walker or cane
• You have enough strength to operate the handle that lifts the footrest on your recliner
• You can get up out of your favorite chair without the use of a special cushion
• You can still enjoy your favorite activities without falling asleep
• You can eat whatever (hopefully healthy) foods you choose without needing to consume large amounts of protein
• You don’t have to take 23 tablets of 16 different medications and vitamins per day 

• You can nap comfortably in your own bed without coughing constantly because you are drowning in excess fluid
• You don’t have to restrict your fluid intake because you take Lasix
• You don’t have to keep your feet propped up at all times to avoid liquid pooling in your legs
• You feel strong enough to get dressed every day and go out of the house
• You don’t have to see a doctor every week
• You can ride in a car without falling asleep
• You don’t feel uncomfortable because you realize how slowly you do everything and you know it inconveniences others even if they don’t say so
• You don’t get confused about whether you’ve already taken your medications and vitamins or not, and you don’t feel that you need to argue with your caregivers about it
• You enjoy having friends over and don’t feel oppressed by the energy it takes to socialize with them
• You can still enjoy doing the things you love
• You enjoy eating and don’t feel that meals are mountains too high for you to summit

My husband Steve, who is disabled, frequently reminds me that there is always someone worse off than you are.  (Steve only takes 15 tablets of 9 medications and vitamins per day, and the only other item on the list above that he shares with Mom is needing a tall chair with arms, or a special cushion on a regular chair, in order to be able to stand up.)

On the bright side, here is a list of things Mom has to be grateful for:

• She isn’t in pain
• She doesn’t have cancer
• She’s mentally sharp except for occasional confusion about her medications and time of day
• She has an incredibly devoted husband who is taking care of her 24/7
• She’s still in her own home
• She has two children in town and one who visits as often as possible
• She has two devoted grandchildren in town who bring her delicious meals
• Dad makes her French Press coffee every morning (a new world order for a no-nonsense no-frills engineer who has never enjoyed a cup of coffee in his life)

• She can watch the Red Sox on cable TV
• She is included in all family birthday celebrations, where she holds court like a queen
• A daughter accompanies her and Dad to all doctor appointments
• She has exceptional health insurance that covered $100,000 of heart surgery
• She retains her love for and ability to play Scrabble (trouncing me in a five-day game) 

• She has a supportive church community, her church home of 61 years
• She has a warm & safe home 
• She’s still mobile (with a walker)
• She has excellent range of motion (much better than my 50-year-old arthritic husband)
• She can afford comfort items like a nice recliner, Kenyan coffee, a portable electric heater, and cozy attractive socks with raised treads
• Other than her heart, her overall health has been good until the last month
• She was in good shape until age 84 when she had the heart surgery
• She’s lived a good, long life and is beloved by her spouse, children, grandchildren and those whose lives she has touched over the years

Here’s to you, Mom.  May you pass peacefully in the night at home before you suffer.

Love,
Your Marykins

** ADDENDUM

Mary's Mom died at home in her own bed sleeping next to her spouse on Saturday morning; Mary says you and I should be so lucky.

For CCC, and to also further honor Mary's dear Mom (one of the most ardent Red Sox fans for 85+ years), here is a photo from 2007 of our family celebrating the World Series victory in Indianapolis, as well as a portrait in her beloved shirt.

(L-R)  Mom, Andrew, Steve (The Bionic Man), James, & Sasha "The Weasel" with Marykins (DogWoman) 

Godspeed, Mom, as you embark on a new adventure . . .