A LETTER TO MY MOTHER ON MOTHER’S DAY
My mom was 89 years when she died. She was also feisty, and hard-headed and a little more than off center. This wasn’t a product of her age- it was just her being Ruth Wylodene Sturdivant Ramey.
Five days before she was gone, she was eating with my brother at her beloved Applebee’s, crying tears of joy because he’d come to visit her.
Boredom and Buried Treasure on my SurgiBattical
The Power of Three. Three years. Three Hips. Three Weeks. Three days. It’s been three weeks and three days since my third hip replacement, each of which I have had exactly three years apart. Seems like a pattern here. A pattern that needs to stop. It’s not that I don’t like hospitals (I don’t like […]
