Mom loses her voice under stress.
Which is fine, because she has her blackberry.
This also fine because it means that people can't call Mom and constantly ask for updates on Abuela's conditions.
Being a PR/Media specialist, Mom has found a way to manage this situation.
She's issuing written updates to my father whose job is then to stick to his script and disseminate the statements by phone.
And of course, there is a protocol.
First, dad calls Abuela's other children, Milly and Vincent.
Then he calls my brother Winn. A
fter that he should call me, then other cousins.
The noon update, today: "She continues to deteriorate."
This is a particularly meaningful and appropriate analogy for a family who resides in South Florida and New Orleans.
I imagine Hurricane Abuela, once a category 5 storm with a well defined eye and winds of over 200 miles per hour, downgraded to a category 1.
Then a tropical storm.
Then a disturbance.
Then peace.
