Compromised

This afternoon was a non-cancer day. I had work to do and Peter Kvidera, a friend and colleague from the university, was unexpectedly in the neighborhood so I packed up the computer and met him at three to work together. I feel good, and we talked a bit about teaching, and then worked companionably. It was nice to just talk about books, and work and not be so preoccupied with myself.

But this morning was not a non-cancer morning. The wig and I went to pick up my mother to take her to lunch and she had a terrible cold but still wanted to go out to lunch. I hate being afraid of her cold. I hate not knowing what to do about taking her out. So I took her out any way. I had a bottle of Purell (the hand sanitizer stuff) that Bob gave me stuck in my purse so I just kept using it on my hands and trying not to touch her.

Poor mom. A cold makes it hard for anyone to think, but for her, that meant she couldn't understand what I meant when I asked her if she wanted chicken or fish for lunch. She couldn't understand that she needed a coat (so I just took one out of the closet and put it on her.) She didn't eat much, but she was so desperate to get out I'm glad I took her.

Of course, if I get her cold, I may not be so glad. But I hate calculating that way. She demands so little.