Mot juste or Moe Howard?

Could stacking be...

...the new planking?

As unfair as it may be to laugh at what comes forth from a Dilaudid-deluded mind, Leslie was the one who said early and often in this ordeal, if you can’t laugh, what good is it.

This was a very difficult weekend.  Leslie's had more pain and discomfort, her appetite is waning, and she is less able to form or complete thoughts.  Hardest, though, is that with every happy visit – welcomed by Leslie with a beatific smile, a hug, and calling the person by name – necessarily comes the most uncertain goodbye.  This is especially true for family and far-flung friends, but even local visitors (or for that matter, myself, when I go out for a short run or stop by the office) can’t know if this will be a last embrace.

Given that, I’m not reluctant to share those moments when, among the tears and hugs, Leslie opens her mouth and sweeps away the clouds - sometimes with a mot juste and sometimes more of a Moe Howard.  Here are some recent examples:

As the kids prepared to leave, I asked Leslie if she wanted to give her baby a kiss.  As Emily leaned over, Leslie said, you’re not going to be a mommy, are you?

For a while, the need to go to the bathroom came out, for some reason, as bathing suit.  Yesterday, however, Leslie needed to explore the realm of her domain.  Caroline proposes that perhaps she was dreaming herself into “Downton Abbey.”

Leslie told her doctor and me that she was scared.  Both of us leaned in, since Leslie hasn't expressed anxiety for some time.  The doctor asked what she feared, and Leslie answered, left side driving.  Well, is she wrong (UK friends need not answer)?

Katie, Jess and I were having an admittedly raucous dinner around Leslie’s bed; she seemed asleep until she piped up with, this evening has been fucking awesome.  Indeed, it had. 

During that same evening, when I was feeding Leslie dessert, she announced, I want you to know that I don’t share my mochi.

As Caroline planned Easter brunch, she asked how many eggs she should make.  Leslie's perspective: only God can make an egg.

Finally, in her most spot-on assessment, as Katie and I tried to give Leslie her morning meds, Leslie pushed out the pills on the tip of her tongue and said, you guys are incompetent.




The bracelet was made by Leslie's doctor's daughter (who Leslie taught); she and several friends gather every few weeks to make bracelets for a charity that shares them with kids in families going through difficulties - military deployment, family illness, etc.