“In between transitions, when it seemed like everything was finally copacetic, life had a knack for knocking me flat on my fanny in unexpected ways. I flashed back to that tragic phone call a few years ago, the one that nearly broke my heart. “Marigold, this is Dad. I’m afraid I have some bad news, dear. Your mother’s not doing well. The oncologist says it’s just a matter of months now....” Three weeks later, having given notice to my boss, I moved back to Houston to become my mother’s caregiver..., severing my delicately forged ties once again. My father was desperate; his government research project was at a critical juncture and his team needed him to complete the study, since his name was on the masthead. I took over the day-to-day care of my ailing mother, driving her to and from the hospital for treatments. We took advantage of the good days and got out, even if it was just a stroll around the block. I pushed her in the wheelchair. On the bad days, my father and I often spent hours at her bedside, ready to dispense medications to control the pain or hold her hand when comfort was what she needed most.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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