It’s happened again. Both my parents were in the hospital for the second time this year. This time they shared a hospital room. I flew across the country to see them (to Bainbridge Island, Washington). Twice I was able to take them out to a nearby coffee house that had spectacular coffee and a panoramic view of Liberty Bay. Both my parents appear to be improving, and my mother was released before I returned home from my visit.
While in Washington, I worked day and night to make accommodations to their house. They can now both live on the first floor (in case that contingency becomes necessary). Unfortunately, my mother is stubborn, and she seems more interested in bringing her 2-year-old dog home from the kennel than she does in creating a healthy environment in which her husband of 50-years can complete his recovery. No amount of logic will change her mind. I have clearly explained the consequences of missing their medicines, the impact of eating expired food, and having someone with respiratory issues live in a filthy environment. But in the end, I guess it is their decision to make. They are free to live as they choose, even when those decisions will shorten their lives. I only hope that they will be happier.