Back from Tim's parents' house. He's sleeping there tonight, but not tomorrow, as long as things don't change clinically (which is obvs. not a guarantee).

She's starting to have that end-of-life restlessness, and a little vocalization with it (and when I say "little," I mean you can barely call the sounds moans; they're more like a mutter trending towards a moan). Still, it's hard to see, and the boys are getting more and more weepy. Especially Tim. Not that that's a bad thing; it's a normal reaction. But they've been working so hard to hold it together, and it's starting to unravel.

I still just feel sucker-punched with how quickly it all happened and how rapid her decline has been. It's only been a week -- ONE week -- since she went in the hospital. God DAMN.

I am eating chocolate ice cream and then going to bed. The Ambien is a given.

It's only been a week -- ONE week -- since she went in the hospital. God DAMN.

Right. My mom started letting go when she found out she was terminal. It took about a week, I guess. I thought of this when you mentioned the feeding issues because I always felt that not eating is just part of the dying process. Why it's better to not have people on IVs at the end. Food is energy and they're not trying to process it or conserve it at the end. When they're ready to let go that's the actual physical thing that's happening.

When they get to the labored breathing it's close. Breathing then becomes the chore. There was a bar in Cambridge, MA that was the hangout for all the crew rowers on the Charles. There was this great b/w photo on the wall there of a woman leaning into her stroke with all her might, fully intent and her muscles straining. And I thought about that picture when my Mom was at the end. Where every breath was like leaning into an oar.

There's something about that word "expire" - about that last breath easing out, and the breath they don't pull back in. Letting go.

I remember being so conscious of my mom's physical body after she died. How my sister was all "it's an empty shell, and her spirit has passed" and that felt so disrespectful to me. This is the body that bore me. That held me, that nurtured me. Still as clay. Not empty but still and heavy. Without the lightness of breath.

When they get to the labored breathing it's close. Breathing then becomes the chore. There was a bar in Cambridge, MA that was the hangout for all the crew rowers on the Charles. There was this great b/w photo on the wall there of a woman leaning into her stroke with all her might, fully intent and her muscles straining. And I thought about that picture when my Mom was at the end. Where every breath was like leaning into an oar.

Oh my god. Her breathing has been *such* a chore for at least the past 6 months. And when she was in the hospital, just watching her tiny body when she tried to get a breath was...exhausting. It made *my* chest hurt. All of her chest muscles, and her shoulders, would tense up and lift, and she'd gasp, and exhale, and start over.

Now that she's receiving hospice care -- basically, a lot of morphine -- she isn't working that hard to breathe, which is a relief to see. Although morphine doesn't actually do anything therpaeutic in terms of actual respiratory capacity, it makes the patient have much less "oxygen hunger," and so they don't labor and gasp and struggle for every breath.

What I think no one in the family really thought about, or maybe refused to acknowledge, is that she probably hit a point a few months back where it ceased being living with COPD and became the final stages of COPD. But she's always been such a busy person, even with 15% lung capacity, and was making plans right up until Friday, that we all just assumed she was dealing with the COPD, managing it, and things would go on. It was like, okay, she's in the hospital, but the IV antibiotics will take care of the infection, because that's what antibiotics DO.

There's something about that word "expire" - about that last breath easing out, and the breath they don't pull back in. Letting go.

She's fighting so hard. I mean, I don't think she's opened her eyes since Sunday, and she's not really talking any more, but she's also hanging on so tenaciously. Like she's worked so hard to breathe for so long that she doesn't know how to stop.

That's Tim's mom in the middle: [link] (well, since she's the only woman in the picture, I think that would have been self-explanatory). She is a wee tiny thing. None of those guys are taller than *maybe* 5'8".

That's from 2 summers ago. I don't think her husband is grabbing her ass, but it's hard to tell from the picture. That might be why she was laughing.

That photo is wonderful.

Okay. Going to bed for real now. I would take one of the dogs to bed with me if I didn't think it would result in massive jealousy from the other dog, and fur and drool in the bed.

That photo is wonderful.

It was one of those total lucky shots. She's laughing, her husband is looking devious and cool, and Tim looks like he's holding hands with his brother. His other brother, on the other side of his dad, looks like "I'm not sure I want to claim them as my family or not, so I'll just stand here and look cool!"

In that picture, Tim is 42, and the brother next to him is maybe 44 or 45. DAMN they are in good shape for their age!

Wonderful family shot, Tep. Happy. This is what everyone needs to remember, they were very happy. This is a sad time. But they were clearly a family full of love.

And, wow, yeah they all look damn good for their ages.

Beautiful pic, Teppy. Much love in hard times.

Q for the CareerMa: I've been...irked...about my job title. It's not what I want it to be (I'm a "[myjob] II", rather than a "Senior" [myjob], which I really should be, due to various stuff for when I got hired, and how I was classified, and not realizing it, etc). I don't really have a beef with my pay, though of course it would be nice to make more.

A year in, I was told by my boss that he wanted to get me on the track for promotion, and made some plans on things that should happen for that--the idea being it would likely then happen at the interim review in six months.

But then I got transferred to a different part of the company, and a new boss, and that never happened. So at two years in, new boss said "would love to promote you, but last year there were no promotions [in this part of the company], so now they have to promote some people who really deserved it last year. But they tell us maybe at the six month review this year they'll let us do some"

So last week I had the six month review and he says no, sorry, no go, but here's hoping. ...at the three year mark? Puhleaze.

Meanwhile, I noted last night that there is a job opening for a "Senior [myjob]" in my area (pointful because there aren't often openings up here...more common elsewhere) with the required experience being RIGHT up my alley.

I've been working on a single project for the past year and a half--and it's only got six months to go. So eventually I need something new anyway. And my thought is, if they promoted me they could bill me at a higher rate to the client anyway, no? So how do I tell my boss "I want THAT job, rather than you hiring someone else, and you should just find someone else to do the project I'm on for the next six months"

Because my current plan (...which I think is pretty clear to him) is that if I don't get the promotion next review, I'm out.

Meara, that post would be an excellent e-mail. Or at least say to him:

"I want THAT job, rather than you hiring someone else, and you should just find someone else to do the project I'm on for the next six months"

ION- idiot from work is now asking if I have a wireless mic for cameras. Again. This time with a link to some gear. @@! It amazes me how professors can be so clueless.