As my departure date creeps closer, I gauge my mother's health. I worry that my parents won't be able to navigate the LACUSC rigmarole, which may inhibit access to medications. Given her precarious condition, one would think that she'd have all the narcotics of the world at her disposal, but the oncologist is wary of prescribing any stronger medication in fear that it may kill her. That is to say, the doctors are worried that she may die from the medication rather than from the cancer. I dunno, sounds like the captain of the Titanic may have been keeping an eye out on the curtains than say an iceberg.
My mother has been cornering my aunt whose been visiting from Korea (AWBVFK) since she volunteers at a cancer ward in Seoul. Jaundice, swelling ankles, and abrupt cessation of chemo has clued my mother that she may be closer to "purchasing real estate" than one would hope. That's my euphemism for death. Mom has been intensifying her questions to AWBVFK. What are the survival rates for cancer patients? Jaundice means the end, doesn't it? I'm not getting better am I? It's gotten to the point where AWBVFK avoids being alone with her.
Plus, she found my black suit, and wondered why it was hanging in the closet. "Um, in case I had to look for work in Los Angeles." "sure."
