Do not be alarmed. And by that, I mean be prepared to be alarmed. The photo I am about to show you are not photo shopped. I mean come ON, people. If I knew how to do that shit, my blog would kick butt!
Please note the length of H’s legs as opposed to the height of her body.
From the tops of her knobby little shoulders to her stride. She measures about 18″. She and I can wear the same stretch pants. (I just prefer mine a little larger around the ankles.) I am 5’5″, and fairly short-waisted, (Though I got nothing on her!).
Her spine is collapsing in on itself at an alarming rate. And the really odd thing is that she has positively no tolerance for any kind of pain at all and she doesn’t seem to be feeling it. It seems to me like it would be grossly uncomfortable. Aside from having more indigestion than ever before, she’s oblivious.
I remember asking the nurse ages ago when she was on hospice what would happen to her eventually when her spine kept disintegrating? What would happen to her insides if she didn’t die first? She said she would need to be fed through a tube.
Every time I get her dressed I look at her twisted up little body and wonder how much longer we have.
Oh, the hideous thing behind her is either the dog bed on the floor on the right or her rolling cart of tricks with all the grandkids and great-grandkids pictures all over the end of it, trash bag hanging off the side, Gerber sippy cup sans the lid with lotion she can’t live without, lamp, remote control, folded up dinner napkin in the back, aaaaall on the top.
Oh, and two flameless votive candles, one with Mary and one with Jesus on the sides. She “lights” these when she prays.
Anyway, I just thought you’d want to know she could implode any minute now.
I’ll keep you all posted.
