The family album I made for a birthday; my mother shows it to everyone I was wiped out yesterday after another marathon day on the phone. There was nothing left of me, no words to write, so I will try today, to piece yesterday and today together. I tried to get in touch with my mother’s primary doctor in hopes of her contacting Medicare to request an aide; there was no call back or response to my emails and call; I tried to get in touch with the doctor from the rehab who put my mother on Hospice care but … Continue reading →

“we should all be as strong and beautiful as the tree outside my window”   Yesterday was my mother’s ninety-fifth birthday; the sickliest child grew up and outlived three siblings. I still find it amazing. My mother always believed in natural medicine and read extensively about homeopathy and natural cures. She subscribes to several doctors’ newsletters. She would always ask if I took my CoQ10. I do. Now she is surrounded by hospice nurses who do not know what CoQ10 is. She had a quiet day but perked up in the latter part of the afternoon in time for a … Continue reading →

When I was young I recall my mother saying she was “four feet eleven and three quarters.” She was usually one hundred pounds, if she got sick maybe she’d drop down to ninety-five. She was eighty-three pounds in the last rehab center. Today she was weighed by a Hospice nurse: the scale was brought to the kitchen where the floor is hard and level and my mother weighed in at seventy-five pounds. When the nurse told me I gasped, but I wasn’t all that surprised. She is barely eating. She is having respiratory issues and is on oxygen. I could … Continue reading →

Stuyvesant Town as it was being built, ca. 1947; our first home as a family taken from 653 East 14th Street, “terrace” side. photo: Jack Margulies Today, Friday, was the day my mother was supposed to go “home,” to her Florida apartment.  My mother is going to be ninety-five years old and has lived in Florida since the early 1980’s. “Home” in my mind, is our apartment in Stuyvesant Town, in Lower Manhattan, which was surrendered years ago. Our memories are stored in the small closets and bedrooms that are now what is called “luxury” and rent for thousands per … Continue reading →

It’s Thursday. I just called the aide to say good morning. I hadn’t spoken directly to my mother for several days. I had been spending so much time on the phone organizing, setting-up, questioning, taking notes, processing, scanning, sending, emailing, that I either was afraid I would wake her or that it was too late to call. I asked the aide about “how it was going” and her response of “fine, she ate some breakfast” came as a welcome. I asked her to hand the phone to my Mom and after a while of prompting and “it’s your daughter,” my … Continue reading →

July 1971 What is it that promotes the will to live? Is it comfort? Security? Good food? Friends? A stable home? Strong relationships? Connections? Feeling appreciated? Success? having a purpose? Taking care of a person or pet? Or is it intrinsic: something within, a life force? By the same token, what makes us loose the will to live? Is it the opposite of all of the above or is it knowing when to bow out and gracefully exit? I’ve wondered about all of this in regard to myself. How is it going to end? This is a tough topic that … Continue reading →

Brooklyn, New York, 1959, visiting Aunt Sarah Here is my mother at age forty-one. She never left the house without make-up. She had her hair done regularly. She took great pride in her appearance. Fifty-four years later she is in a wheelchair in a Rehab Center in Plantation Florida losing hope. Her hair is a mess. Her makeup is tucked away somewhere not even thought of. This is the second rehabilitation center she has been in since her fall in her apartment. The first one was in Margate. My mother complained bitterly that she was being neglected, that she had … Continue reading →