Norman Rockwell

Today after lunch and a few laps around the facility, my mom said she didn't feel well, so I took her back to her room. Then this: I had to negotiate a stray resident out of the room, my mom started projectile vomiting, I caught what I could in the dog food bowl, and Paul and Wilson walked in. Then the caregiver was in to help clean my mom up, the nurse came in to check my mom's vitals, Wilson corralled Longshanks, Paul had to keep asking that stray resident to leave, and I thought, sure, now's a good time for a picture.

My mom's mood was oddly good throughout this whole ordeal. Let's hope that was the end of something nasty in her stomach and not the beginning of something nasty for the whole facility.