Snapshot from a sickroom

For a few days I was terrified my mother would die. When I arrived, she reminded me so very much of my grandmother, about a month before she died. My grandmother was in her late 80s at the time. My mother is 75. Now, while she'll never see the peak of health again, she's much improved from when I arrived a week ago.

My father's optimism is undimmed - he remarked on her improvement well before I felt I could breathe a little easier. It's that same optimism that makes it hard for him to plan for worst-case scenarios. (Sadly, worst-case is NOT my mother's death. It's her living with a need for extensive (and expensive) care and oversight.)

I'm able to work from here with few interruptions, and the cats are doing fine (Mocha is happily sprawling all over the floor everywhere. Darlene hides during the day, it'll take longer for her to warm up.) I'm ... mostly good - today was a hard day, but my boss was good enough to chase me offline once he realized I was not doing well.