PYHO: Anxious

Last week, a man named Tim LaFollette died. 

Tim was 31 years old.

I never met Tim, but I watched his story unfold.

Tim had ALS.  He was struck young because he was one of the 5% of sufferers who have familial ALS, where pretty much everyone in the family gets it.  His grandmother and mother died from it.  He knew he would too.

A web series was created to follow his story, which was how I found him.

If you'd like to learn more about ALS and tim, I'll give you a link to the first video at the end of this post.

Tim embraced his disease and did everything he could to stay alive as long as he could.

The opposite of my mom.

Which is fine with me, because people should choose what they want to do. Tim still went out, Tim still had visitors, Tim lived as long as he could, whereas my mom just didn't.

She needs hospice.  Desperately.  She's in pain.  But she can't get pain medication without a nurse or doctor coming to the house, and she won't get it.

My stepdad.  In denial that she needs it.  In denial that he needs it.  Because he needs help.  And a break.

I've spoken with her nurse from the doctor's office, since she refuses to go to the doctor.

Jennifer tells me she's end-stage, and probably has about six months.  Could be more, of course.  Could be less.

She's going to die.

She could die in pan.  Or she can die comfortably.

My uncle, my mom's brother, is coming in from North Carolina to visit in November.  He decided this when he was here in July, figuring it would be the last time he will see her.

I think my mom will leave this world after he comes.

And I am anxious for her to.

Because it's very difficult to mourn her when she's still here.

And I've been mourning the loss of my mom for over two years.

Here is the first video of the Often Awesome series, taken right after Tim was diagnosed.    Rest in peace, Tim.