"Don't let me drown."
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As before, Ma Schmidt repeated "Help me" and "Save me" many times throughout the day. Each time I tell her that she is safe in her own home. But I wonder if she really means, "Help me NOT DIE?" Because of course she is dying, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
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The hospice nurse visited today. Schmidt described how Ma is doing, in all the details. The nurse offered to prescribe another mood-calmer that we can use in alternation with the current anti-anxiety drug.
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I had to take Ma to the potty again. It was easier to clean her this time (compared to the first), because there was no shit—just urine. But I was still clumsy at it. Once again, I hoisted her ankles like I would a baby's.
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