Sunday, August 24, 2025 – Day 376

Sunday, August 24, 2025

Good morning friends—let’s have a chat about life.

On Thursday, Ellen, my palliative care PA, stopped by for my monthly health assessment. I like her—she’s easy to talk to, knows her stuff, and never pressures us into decisions.

At the ALS clinic, we were asked if we’d completed a POLST form—Practitioner Order for Life-Sustaining Treatment.We’ve already done the Power of Health, but not that one. Ellen handed us the form, and I gave it a glance.

At first, it looks simple—check a few boxes, sign, and done. But these are big, life-defining choices. I told her I’d rather not rush this…I want to discuss any decisions made with Cindy before committing. We agreed to wait and revisit it next month.

The truth is, my treatment views shift as this disease progresses. Not long ago, I swore I’d never get a feeding tube—yet here I am, and I’m grateful I changed my mind. So I want to be thoughtful with this decision. Whatever I choose now, I can revise later, though I’d prefer not to waffle.

For now, the form sits on the table—a quiet reminder that some choices deserve more than a quick checkmark. And that’s okay. Because in the end, it’s not just about what boxes I mark—it’s about making sure the choices reflect love, dignity, and quality of life. And including my Cindy in this conversation.

Yesterday, Cindy and I made a trip to the Roscoe Woodstock Antique Mall. It’s one of the better-run places around—owner Ted keeps the dealers in check, inventory turns over quickly, and the slot machines, pinball games, and quirky collectibles make it fun to wander through. Even if you don’t buy a thing, it’s worth the visit.

Cindy brought along some old milk cans she’s been storing and hauling from place to place for years. Time to let them go. With new equipment coming into the house, she’s determined that something has to leave. Fair enough. I’m going to try and behave or I might be next!

I tagged along because I needed to get out of the house. We packed both the rollator walker and the transport chair so I had options. Truth be told, I would have preferred the power chair, but I’m still moving cautiously on the whole transport-van purchase—it’s a big expense.

When we arrived, I chose the walker over the wheelchair. I wanted that independence, even knowing it would be tougher. The first 5–10 minutes were fine, but then the legs started to protest. I tried to perch on the walker seat, but antique malls aren’t exactly designed for lingering in the aisles. After another 10 minutes, I had to call it. We’d only covered a third of the booths, and I hated to quit.

Cindy was kind about leaving, even though I know she was disappointed. If I’d used the transport chair, we could have spent the whole afternoon browsing. She hid it well, but I could feel it. We don’t get many carefree days anymore—the kind where we’d take back roads through the cornfields with no destination, just enjoying the ride.

Yesterday could have been one of those days…but my body had other plans. We headed home so I could put my feet up, read for a while, and eventually realize there was golf on TV. Thanks to Robyn’s reminder, I caught the FedEx Championship. Today is the final round—after that, no meaningful golf until the Ryder Cup in late September.

So here’s to Sunday—whether you’re out wandering the back roads, poking through antiques, or just frittering the day away. Whatever it is, I hope you’re able to share it with people you love (and want to be with).

Love you guys! ❤️

Today’s photo is for Wyatt. He knows Grandy is afraid of sharks and doesn’t like swimming in the ocean. All because of Jaws (50 years ago and counting)