... was the easy part. Uneventful travel from Atlanta to Richmond this morning. Even when you have to manhandle the suitcase up above your head with brute strength to jam into overhead bin. Today was the first time in my travels since Jan. 1 that some manly man has not risen to the challenge, jumping up help me wrangle my luggage to deposit in the storage compartment. I commented to my seatmate as we were preparing to disembark how it is much easier to lift things down as opposed to up, work with gravity instead of against it.
We knew my brother would not be getting better, as the prognosis before he was discharged as an inpatient in mid-January was dismal. The family had agreed to hospice care before he came home, with lots of medical equipment in place before his release. At that time, he was weak from being in bed plus the effects of anesthetics, but mobile and able to maneuver around the home where they have lived for nearly thirty years. He has not been out of bed for over two weeks now, losing muscle mass and mobility, seems to be heading steadily downhill.
My sister in law called on Tuesday evening, to provide a report, make me aware of changes that have occurred since I was here several weeks ago. It did not take me long to come to the conclusion she did not need to be here struggling along alone. Even though she has many friends, a good support system and a caring church family, unless she has paid sitters arranged by hospice: she is here with him by herself much of each day.
He continues to decline. I pray for peace, mercy and grace, for this family so consumed by heartache.
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