Jack of Harts

I spent the weekend up with mom at Our Lady of Peace, and a friends house half an hour away who graciously allowed me to sleep in his basement. Thank God. Our Lady of Peace is good for mom, I think. They certainly do seek to care for her from what I can see, and they are always quick to answer a call for help. But she is getting weaker. And due to construction, their normal one-person rooms are now shared two-person rooms. And the fire marshal has imposed rather draconian rules on what furniture is allowed in the rooms and where exactly it must be. They cannot add or move anything, and what they have is straight out of a 1980s office horror film. Uncomfortable and unsupportive. And they want visitors to wear their special thicker-than-normal masks all the time. Me. Asthma. I’ve never had to use my rescue inhaler multiple times in a day before just to be able to partially breathe, and the furniture in the rooms might as well be torture racks. I hurt. I hurt. I hurt.