Up at not quite seven...more trips to the bathroom...got Mom up at nine and really had to push to get her going. We were finished by 10:30 and then a procession of neighbors and relatives came by to wish her bon voyage. My godmother was as near to pieces as I've ever seen her.

We had no trouble when we got to the airport...sigh, except with TSA. Mom has a hat she wears, with a buckle on it. It's a good thing...maybe something told me...that I insisted on her wearing the kerchief under the hat, which she usually doesn't do, because they made her take it off and gave her a full wand search. I was trying to get reclothed and had absolutely no way to control what was going on. (I also didn't notice that the courderoy pants I picked out for her to wear had little snaps at the corners of the pockets. That set off the alarm, too.)

The flight seemed very long. I usually have a book to read but mostly held hands with Mom, who was exhausted.

We had a very nice escort at Hartsfield, a James Johnson, who was very patient with us. We had asked some friends to come to the airport in case we needed some support (hi, Mel, hi, Phyllis). Well, James, who was busy last night getting the room ready and buying groceries, and who got only four hours sleep, completely forgot where he parked the car. I've never seen him so disoriented. It was hellishly hot in the parking lot and I finally asked Mel to drive me around the parking lot; we kept the window open and I aimed the key fob out the window and kept pressing the panic button. Finally the car started beeping and flashing. It was completely away from where poor James thought he left it.

We got home without incident. Mom slept on the sofa most of the evening. She ate a few mouthfuls of the delicious rotisserie chicken from Publix and all the cut-up watermelon (except for the piece Willow mooched from her). By the time it was bedtime, she was flat out incoherent. I had to wrestle with her to get her upstairs, but finally she was settled on the futon under three coverings and murmured her way to sleep.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 11:41:00 PM

Comments:

Those parking decks are hard to keep oriented in. Add in the stress and lack of sleep - you could go days without finding your car. (But won't they be glad to see your wallet when you exit!)

I won't say anything about the TSA.

Glad you made it back. Let us know if there's anything we can do to help.

J.

# posted by  Jerry : 12:33:00 AM

 

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