The more things change

My niece has a birthday tomorrow. I texted my sister for ideas and discovered that my mother - whom I haven't spoken to since the invasion of Ukraine - has decided to tap out. She's incontinent, she's throwing clots, her husband is deeply, aggressively demented (with a diagnosis this time!) and it's maybe time to look at long-term care.

My sister took charge this time, which means she's the bad guy. It's been interesting watching her figure that out.

I'm mostly sanguine about it. It's not my problem. They're worse off, they have fewer options, and things are shittier now than they were three years ago, when I was moving heaven and earth to provide a soft landing. That's all been squandered. And I'm mostly counseling her to let his son get eaten alive by this bullshit, not just because the son was the one who caused the plug to be pulled on everything I'd set up. But because having him killed and eaten means he can't interfere when the rubber hits the road.

But I'm very angry that if she'd backed me up three years ago we wouldn't be here.

I was supposed to have a lunch date with a friend I haven't spent nearly enough time with. He's dying of cancer right now. Not really in a place to see anyone. We have a mutual friend who is closer who keeps me apprised. And the guy who made my chess board is busy dying of cancer right now. Brain tumor first, then loss of short-term memory, now loss of continence.

And my mother and her husband deserve so much more suffering than these people.

I'm doing better than most anyone I know and I'm doing poorly. It's humbling. I wish we still lived on a planet where people cared about each other but I'd best get the mote out of mine own eye, right?

I almost did.

But I can't.