About three weeks ago, my mother-in-law's health took a sudden turn for the worse. She lives with E's sister in Florida and suffers from Parkinson's disease, an Alzheimer's-like form of dementia, and rheumatoid arthritis.

Until recently she was mobile, plugged in mentally most of the time, and not suffering a lot of pain. Then suddenly everything took a sudden and inexplicable dive in January, and she became bedridden, unable to feed herself, confused, and riddled with mysterious aches.

E's sister, an attorney and mother of four boys ranging in age from 5-12 years, has spent hours at the Mayo Clinic looking for answers, treatments, hope. Meanwhile, her home life has spiraled out of control and her professional work suffered as she has scrambled to deal with the logistics and stress of her mother's condition. E is flying out tomorrow for a week to visit his mom and help his sister catch up on paperwork, set up 24-hour nursing care, and get things settled a bit.

And despite the sad state of affairs, the kids and I will be here wishing we were there.

Because we should be.

Because my children need to see their grandmother before she slides even further into the abyss of pain and illness.

Because she's been part of my life for more than 25 years.

Because E should not be going through this alone.

But he has to.

February 14, 2007