Things do change, and yet they are essentially the same. I got my thesis back with word that it's actually pretty good. Then my mother again did not respond to me, or to my eldest sister, the next day (she would not wake, though she was restless in her sleep).
I plugged away at this assignment and that assignment, and got a paid consulting project under way for Endicott. Then on Saturday mom seemed fine, lucid -- and yet somehow less vigorous, less present with us. They say at Essex Park that she's not eating.
I do wish for a little pocket of certainty. I wish I had my degree in hand, or that I was all done with ABA classes, or that mom would turn a corner for good and all.