It's all relative

Michael had a pretty good day today. The hospice doctor came this morning, and Janet and I were really impressed with his kindness and compassion.

"I don't suppose you make the cut if you have no bedside manner," Janet said.

I think that would be a rather funny character for a novel -- a hospice doctor who has no people skills.

I've always had a somewhat twisted sense of humor, and Michael brings out the best of it in me.

The nurse came about 2 and brought a bandage for the pressure sore he was developing, and an eggcrate mattress to help keep him more comfortable.

His dad and brother, Scott showed up about 2:30 and made me realize just how bad this house is for people with disabilities. Scott scoped out a route that would get his father into the house safely. I just can't believe how big that kid is -- 6-feet, 9 inches -- and he doesn't play basketball.

I made a ham, spinach and asparagus risotto with goat cheese for dinner. Magnificent. Janet and I ate until we were uncomfortable.

Michael seemed stronger today. He napped after his father lft, but he got up on the walker by himself and rolled into the bathroom and then out into the living room, where he sat with us for about an hour. In all, he had a good day. But that's relative. A good day now is one in which the pain is under control and he has the strength to get out of the bedroom.

It's all relative.

Once he went to sleep, I went downstairs and started looking through photo albums so we can get together photos for s CD. I already have a church and a minister for his memorial service -- a Unity church in Savannah. The minister knew him before he moved to Cary, and she feels honored to be asked.