Today is an anniversary without a smile.
Nine months ago this afternoon, a neurologist at Kaiser Sunset officially concluded that Diane, as she long had suspected, was afflicted with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS.
She is at home fulltime with caregivers, a drastic lifestyle change for a woman accustomed to going to her office every day as a nurse practitioner.
You-know-who has become admiral of the kitchen – the bedrooms, the dining room, the living room.
Therefore the style of housekeeping has become – I say more casual. Diane prefers a more colorful phrase that does not consume many letters.
For years I was not allowed into the kitchen during preparation time, which spanned the entirety of the day except for meals and dishwashing.
Now they call me captain.
With the arrival of caregivers, our home has undergone a discernible facelift.
First day, I was shocked when I entered the kitchen.
Where were the dishes?
Who pilfered the stacks of meat and dairy silverware?
The now revised law of the kitchen was: No sense in shlepping across the floor and putting all the silver into a compartmentalized drawer when you are going to use it tomorrow anyway – after you remember where you put each piece.
I have been studying how the washer and dryer operate, with an accent on cleaning the dryer’s filter every (?) time.
Instructions should be memorized by Arbor Day.
For the true captain of our ship, stark changes gradually have seduced Diane.
Her breathing frequently is a towering hurdle.
Walking feels like a memory.
Your smallest prayers are needed and appreciated – in three words, “God help Diane.”
