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We are a strange culture society group of humans. I cannot imagine why for what how we have people who steal necessary vital medical supplies from hospitals, hoard toilet paper, engage in racist attacks, because of a virus.

Maybe I’ve got this whole thing wrong and my words will come back to haunt me. I think it was scarlet fever that hit my mom’s home in Montreal when she was a child. There was a quarantine sign placed on the door and she remembered angrily frustratingly watching friends ice skate out back while she had to remain sequestered in the house. (It was perhaps her brother who had been struck ill and that may have led to additional sibling hatred antagonism rivalry at the time.)

Given our global economy world impact community, I fully imagine that I will, at some point in time, have coronavirus. I believe it will hit our home family neighbors. And we will deal with it. When we are struck by it, we will cease visiting my mom for a specified period of time (by following CDC and/ or WHO guidelines… you know from doctors and researchers who know of what they speak. Not any single solitary ever politician). We will also self-quarantine. And I imagine we often usually have a two week supply of toilet paper and paper towels so… I think we will be ok.

But I do not have a single face mask. Nor should I. All of that medical equipment supplies should be saved used given to medical personnel who are on the front lines and people who are immuno-compromised or in a high risk group. Those of us who do not fit into any of these categories need to stop behaving as if the apocalypse is coming. An abundance of toilet paper will not save anyone.

You know who hoarded crazy stuff? My mother. Because she had dementia. And we gave it all away or some stuff we had to toss because it had mold.

(I woke up yesterday remembering a lovely necklace and earrings I bought for her in Thailand- gold and diamonds- and realized I never came across them. She gave away or trashed or had things stolen. We have no idea. There just seemed to be a great sucking noise of people who are scam artists and fabulous at targeting the most vulnerable. And until you receive power of attorney, you can do nothing to stop it. They are adults and have every right to do what they wish with their personal property)

We visited my mother this morning. J.P. had ordered two full size bibs for her to wear while eating. He delivered those to the staff as he had only been able to procure one from the medical supply store. And they need to be washed regularly.

Meals are pretty much the routine of the day at these stages. Breakfast runs into lunch which runs into dinner which runs into bedtime and then it starts all over again. No matter what time of day, someone is usually eating something. My mother is no exception. Time takes on a different meaning feeling complete lack of concern or care or even notification. So, often, no matter what time you stop by, you may find my mother seated at a table with food in front of her. Today was no exception.

Mom was seated in her wheelchair in front of a mostly eaten bowl of cheerios and a Danish of some kind (this last part would fit into her “pleasure eating” category that she is permitted). She was extremely spacey this morning and when she did focus, it felt like there was mostly blankness darkness void inside.

(I will never adjust to seeing the same color hazel eyes, set in the same different but familiar face, and not seeing immediate recognition or humor or intellect sparkle. I am always constantly consistently struck down in my heart pit of my stomach by the change in those eyes. My first focus in life. The person who provided me with immediate feedback of pride or disappointment or concern and always love. As soon as I leave her presence, my mind reverts back to my memories of those eyes that I knew. For I cannot justify comprehend fathom what is now reality. These eyes are what I need to forget change in my mind perception head. So that I do not scream)

I look away. I follow my mother’s gaze which is heavily focused on a person across the room. She is unable today to look at me and maintain her gaze. She is distracted less there than before. Perhaps a different normal just for today or moving forward entirely.

As I feed her bits and bites of the Danish. As I hold her juice so that she may sip it and try to not have too much dribble down her chin. As I wipe her mouth and face and fingers. I think about the need for these morsels of food. Among children and babies and homeless and vulnerable populations. I think we are making a mistake have this thing backwards upside down screwed beyond recognition. That we are providing constant care and vital resources to those at the end of life who would, if permitted to answer the question prior to being struck down by their current situation, have gladly gratefully signed off begged to be permitted to leave this life on their own terms and in decent shape condition with the ability to feed themselves go to the bathroom on their own converse talk laugh think. Mom would have chosen to end her life and ask that resources be given to youth and caretakers. People who have much more life left on their path.

We have the resources but it often seems as though the people who need them are not in receipt and those who have them, do not need them. Instead they are warehoused in this in between middle world of insanity.

And people who need them die. And people who are well past ready to die. Are not allowed. And their plates continue to be filled.

(Photo of Ella and Macy many moons ago, at Bethany beach visiting their grandma who would have chosen young people, even those who do not share DNA, to be given resources over herself any and every day of the week)