stuck on a toilet, you can laugh or you can cry

“the problem is, everyone here is dying,” my father announced as we sat at dinner surrounded by folks in wheelchairs and walkers.  “yes, dad, the funny thing is that everyone out there is dying too.” we’re all going to die in the end.  we weren’t designed to live forever, and that’s just the plain truth.

it’s all a matter of perspective.  i can say, ‘we’re all going to die’ or i can say, ‘we’re all living, so let’s go have some fun while we’re here.’

there is a difference.

my mom continues in her battle with parkinsons, but i can see a shift in her attitude. instead of suffering in silence with no one understanding her, she’s chosen to laugh, connect and enjoy the precious moments.

yesterday she was trying to tell me she wanted to drink some metamucil – laxatives have become my mom’s best friends lately – and of course i had no clue what she was trying to say.  instead of repeating the unintelligible word that i kept hearing – which my dad loves to do -and getting angry that i couldn’t understand, i tried being in her shoes and to experience what she might be wanting.  i turned it into a guessing game, where she would point, i would guess. then it evolved into a version of charades, where i was performing both sides. she was giggling so much that at one point she forgot what she wanted. she sat there holding onto the arms of her commode for dear life, giggling, as if imagining tomorrow’s headlines, ’84 year old woman giggled her way down the toilet’

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