The big day is tomorrow and we'll transfer to daughter Alison's tonight. There's an incredible amount of stuff that has to go and I hope I can get it all in the car, including Pat's oxygen concentrator, walker, medicines, and clothes, plus my big suitcase full.
Darling son Mike e-mailed with various instructions and admonishments, including "don't overmedicate." Ho, ho, he's a card, but he does get to be just a teensy bit judgmental, moralistic, holier-than-thou...young mothers, this is what happens when they grow up: They become your parents!
Anyways (a folksy bit there), Alison will drive me to Newark at 4:30 am, then it's off to London at 8:20. I'm still torn about going, considering Pat's condition, but our children think I should. Mike's generosity in covering this whole trip, and the constant support--emotional, financial, and otherwise--of all four are proof to me of my incredible good luck through life.
Pat's pulmonologist--one of those doctors you wish all doctors were like--actually called yesterday, out of the blue, to see how he's doing. Mind you, we hadn't called him and Pat's latest hospitalization was for erratic blood sugar, not the COPD, yet Dr. J. cared enough to call. We had a nice chat and confirmed that we'll be on the same plane tomorrow (he's going to a pulmonology conference at Oxford), so I may get a chance to meet him--I've only spoken to him on the phone, but have never actually seen him.
Oh, yes, this is a food blog: I made barbecued country ribs in the crockpot last night and they were good. Dessert was the last of the strawberries Alison had brought to the hospital, adorned with Cool Whip.
Good friend Marge called to tell me to forget what's going on at home and just concentrate on having the best time of my life. Yes! I'm going to do that. It's been a long time since I was on a trip and I know it will be glorious. So looking forward to London, although the very best part will be seeing Mike, Paula, and Precious Angel Vivian.