About

Pilsen is a neighborhood on the near south side of Chicago. I was born there and spent the first few years of my life there. My mother was born there, both my grandparents were born there, and my great-grandparents settled there in the 1920s. It’s named after the city of Plzeň in the Czech Republic. One of my grandmother’s most oft-repeated sayings is “What do you expect? We’re Pilsenites!” Very frequently, when she referred to Pilsen she also, in the same breath, referred to žebráky, a Czech word which I knew meant, roughly, “poor saps” or “broke bums.” I looked it up just recently to get the official definition, and “panhandler” was listed. She’d say these things when she sensed that I expected a different outcome in a situation, which I guess must have been often. For whatever reason, I find Gram’s fatalistic streak–it’s still there–endearing.

I don’t really know how long I’m going to write on this blog. This is for anyone interested in end of life care, our dubious health care industry, or old people in general; for those who know our family, it’s a way for me to provide updates on A. & A.  I started it on a whim, but I have a lot to say right now about being a caretaker. I’ve kind of always been their caretaker. I feel that this is a unique situation and, simultaneously, the most ordinary, universal thing in the world. M. and I packed up my grandparents and moved them across the country with us over four years ago. The most amazing thing is that my Gram agreed to go.