Family cruise on a river in Egypt

We are, of course, speaking of: De Nile.

My mother-in-law is 90 years old. She recently fell in her apartment. Fortunately, the "I've fallen and I can't get up" bracelet worked perfectly.

And then our adventures began.

The bracelet company called my husband as well as the people who came and helped Bubbe up. My husband and I drove in to her town to her apartment and we spent the night. She was in pain, having trouble moving, and exhibiting signs of confusion.

So the next day we decided to take her home with us. She really wasn't ready to be alone.

The next two nights at our home we got very little sleep. Bubbe gets up several times in the night to go to the bathroom. She couldn't manage by herself and so she called out to Ken.

The next day we took her back to her home town to see her doctor. Who promptly put her in the hospital.

The fractured vertebrae were cemented, which was a near miracle in reducing Bubbe's pain. After a few days, the doctor transferred her to the physical therapy floor, assuring us that he would keep her there "until they threw her out".

This lasted a few days when without warning her doctor popped in and said you're going home tomorrow.

She wasn't ready.

My husband drove in; his siblings drove in. His sister stayed with Bubbe a while. Finally, 24 hour care was arranged for a week "to give her time to get her strength back".

My husband is seeing pretty much what I am seeing.

Bubbe is still confused. She is terrified of falling again. She is disengaging with life. She keeps closing her eyes.

My sister-in-law and my brother-in-law don't / won't / can't (choose all that apply) see this. They keep talking about how she'll be "back to where she was" if she eats more, walks more, gets "out of the bad habit" of closing her eyes.

This is painful and so difficult for my husband. Especially since the family needs to be honestly discussing and making decisions.

And his siblings have opted for a cruise.

comfort food

Earlier I wrote about the death of my neighbor D and the funeral and her surviving husband G and ... about my cooking and bringing over food.

Apparently, when I don't know what to do or say, I cook. Sometimes I bake. Sometimes I make casseroles.

Mostly I make soup.

Soup is super. It really, literally, does make you "feel better".

It even makes me feel better to make it.

Because of disease, disappointments and deaths, over the past several months I estimate that I have made hundreds of gallons of soup.

I have made old favorites like matzoh ball soup and chicken soup and potato leek soup.

I have made new discoveries like summer squash soup and sweet potato and chickpea soup.

Today, though, as I plan on making up some more summer squash soup and sweet potato chick pea soup, I am discouraged.

What has all this soup accomplished? Is the world a better place? Or is it just more dirty dishes and veggies spared from the compost pile?

I feel like soup is not enough. Not by a long shot.

Today, the sun is shining (at last) but my spirit is cloudy still -- even rainy..

Maybe I should *have* some soup.

sandwich generation

Last year, we enjoyed a season as "empty nesters". All four of my children were old enough to vote, had health insurance and were living outside of my home.

Today-- temporarily, we hope-- we are the sandwich generation. My youngest has moved back in -- from Brooklyn, on her way to Chicago.

And my mother-in-law, 90 years old, fell in her apartment in Toledo 2 days ago.

My husband and I went to her apartment, stayed the night. She was still too frail, confused and in pain to stay on her own. So we brought her home with us.

Managing this will be an intricate dance.

My husband is at work from 8 am to 5 pm Mon through Friday. Which is a good thing: his patience with his mother has grown thin. It is very hard for him to see her old, frail, forgetful.