Alexander Pope, that's who. And, I have not had hope so much as failure to pony up to the truth and hope has no place in that scenario. There is no hope in the dementia story, it never ever ends well. In the end, life and love literally are suffocated.
Meanwhile the daily living with Jim while I still am unable even to hobble is a magnificent frustration of epic scale. And I have not scaled well.
Beloved Nancy is venturing forth from Brooklyn at the end of the month, flying in for a long weekend with us. Can't say how much I need her, even for a short time. Jim always perks up when she is here. Speed the day.
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