My mom tested positive for infection with the coronavirus. She has a mild case though and is expected to recover.
This is the best-case scenario because of her age, dementia, and the fact she resides in a care home.
As usual, it’s my dad who suffers deep hurt and loss alongside the sick and dying in the family. When the virus began to spread and kill in the care homes of Minnesota, he thought of his wife, his mother-in-law (my grandma) and his longtime friend, who also has dementia (the senile form).
His nightmare was for all three of these close figures in his life to get the disease. This is exactly what happened. It killed my grandma but fortunately has spared the other two. He abides by them but in drawn-out isolation because of his knee surgery and social distancing.
Ironically if my mom was to get a bad case, she might enter hospice and this would unlock resources and options to make her content and comfortable. The friend has been in hospice for months and is living without invasive procedures and futile medical regimens.
When my grandma died it pained me to see my dad in sorrow. It was clear even over the video call. In his sorrow the tears streamed all down his face in waves.
Recently on All Saints’ Day he hallowed with a note, flowers and candle a small corner of the living room where the family keeps her ashes in an urn. He shared the image with me and my siblings.
pseudoisaac 