in the weeds

On busy days, I feel like I'm back in the restuarant business, waiting tables. Same paranoid thoughts, slightly different objects. Here's what I mean...
"Did I get table 12 their ketchup? Oh shoot I forgot the napkins."
"Did I get room 202 their commode? Oh shoot I forgot the oxygen tank."

it is what it is

It is what it is. The statement can imply complacency, acceptance, helplessness, and/or indifference, among many other meanings. In recent weeks I've tuned into the use of this morphic phrase and have begun to use as a mantra for myself, though not sure which meaning I aim to imply. Last week this phrase was the latest buzz in the Roger Clemens congressional hearings to determine whether or not he took steriods. His comment, "It is what it is," skirts politely around the truth, dismissively leaving it up to your own judgement.

Today in the family sitting area, I overheard one daughter say to her sister regarding their globally aphasic mother, "It is what it is." Their smiles following this statement implied acceptance.

Ah, acceptance. Coping with an illness isn't much different from coping with any other difficulty in life that requires acceptance, patience, and maybe even a little bit of faith. Faith that in the end everything will work out okay. Midge had yet another great metaphor today, "a pilot once told me... when flying you have to know where you are going and set the controls to move towards that destination, but always know that the flight is weather dependent and may cause you to shift course." When flying through life this may not be as clear, but I suppose...

It is what it is.

unspeakable difficulty

"Mommy you have to listen to Amanda. You have to do exactly as she says. We're all trying to help you here. We are a team. Amanda is a trained professional. Trust me. Trust her." I squatted next to the bed on the right as Janet, Mrs. Summer's daughter, squatted on her left and pleaded with her. "I want to take you home Mommy. You have to try. It's like I tell my children, you don't have to be the best, but you have to try. You can do this." Mrs. Summer's lips curled up on the left side into a smile. The right side of her face remained drooped, a result of the stroke that also left her speechless, literally. So I'm unable to ask her why after four days of working together, she's suddenly pulling away from me. Shaking off my hand, turning her eyes away, and attempted to utter some words of rejection. Is it frustration, confusion, anger, fear? Most likely a combination, but without the ability to verbally express herself we are left with a great distance of misunderstanding between us.