My Mom’s apartment has its own unique time zone. At her place, minutes tick by but after four or five hours, I realise that we haven’t accomplished very much at all. We’ve talked about going out, but we haven’t (Mom doesn’t have ‘the poop’ to get dressed). Instead, we’ve skyped
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THE CAREGIVERS' LIVING ROOM A Blog by Donna Thomson: The Time It Takes
It was mid morning yesterday when I arrived at my Mom’s apartment and mid afternoon when we ambled out to the car to begin our errands. In the interim, we’d had toast and coffee, I’d tamed her bedhead hair with spray and mousse, and I’d done a quick alteration on
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