To post or not to post...

I had some second thoughts about this entry.  This disease has so little regard for the dignity of its victims.  So, deciding to share stories that would be considered very personal for my mom are a tough call for me to make.  Ultimately, though, this blog is about my journey, selfish as that sounds.  And I promised myself at the very beginning that I would be honest and open about everything.  So, in deference to Mom's privacy and to your probable "I didn't need to know that" factor, I've decided to publish the story with a sanitized version.  Stop now if you don't like vivid mental pictures lingering in your subconscious (or conscious) mind for days.

My mother is a flasher. That's right, my 80 year old mother flashes anyone and anywhere. Without going into too much detail, apparently, the new bras that I bought her aren't comfortable. So, she lifts her shirt and adjusts “things” without notice or thought to her surroundings. Sometimes she has things covered and sometimes, not so much.  And, my exclaiming, “Mom!” in a loud voice, does not help matters. She then turns around, which increases her audience numbers, and says, “What?” As I try to pull her shirt down she yells, “Stop it! Those are mine and I need to fix them!” 

Not so bad, right?  Just be glad I left "parts" out and didn't take an actual picture.  I'm thoughtful like that.