Kenneth Winiecki, Jr.:  

cause it has no overt symptoms, then you're just blissfully unaware walking dead for however many days (or hours) you have left on this Earth. One minute you're perfectly healthy as far as you know, preparing the next couple decades of your retirement with your partner, and the next, that oddly persistent stomach ache suddenly spikes in severity to send you dashing to the ER. I got the call from my brother at 1 a.m. on a Saturday morning, Mom's taking Dad to the hospital, but it's a stomach ache, how bad could it be. Mom said the nurse took one look at his abdomen and her face went blank, just shook her head. They "rushed" him into surgery anyway (as much as feasible waiting for the on-call surgeons to up and commute in at 2 a.m. on a Saturday), but there was nothing left of his insides to save, it was all necrotic, and then he crashed on the table. I caught the first flight out, but was still 4 hours too late. 3 days shy of 79. Hell of a way to go out, Dad. R.I.P. For the first few months I flew every month from MD to NH to take care of stuff around the house for my mom, especially my dad's Apple ecosystem and small-engine implements. He was a tech guy, and no one else in my family has a tech bone, so it was either me or the mothballs. At the beginning of 2020 I was switching to flying up every 2 months when the pandemic hit, and for the next year until we were both vaccinated, I couldn't risk bringing my mom a virus. That SUCKED. But, it ended, and I've been flying up every 2 months ever since. So, that's my life now. Still mostly vacation. Even when I go up, I've stabilized things enough that my time there isn't all task-pressure like those first couple (interrupted) years. Of course I should move up there, but I've accreted too much stuff in MD, and I hate messing with it SO much, and I have attention and anxiety issues that need treatment to facilitate it, and there is just not enough motivation yet to make me. So, until further notice, here I am. Party on, Wayne.