I used to think the only thing worse than dying young, would be living so long that your brain calls it way before your body does. I've had some relatives that have dealt with dementia and frankly, that seems like the dickest of dick moves that life could pull. Hey, you made it old-timer, you've lived a long life, but you're going to forget everything about it. Mostly. To f--k with you even further, it'll all kinda depend on the day.
But, and just the holiest of craps, it turns out
there might be something worse than either of those two scenarios waiting for
me at the end. It wouldn't be my brain or my body taking everything from me.
It would be some ruthless blonde.
Wait, what?
Marla Grayson is in control. Her business, her
love-life, her f--king hair, the tightness of my pants- all of it. That shit is
locked down. When we meet her she's in court, offering guidance and wardship to
yet another old person allegedly incapable of taking care of themselves. Aw, that's
nice. Helping those who can't help themselves? Honorable, right? Uh, well...
Not in the slightest.
See, Marla, caring as she may be, is an absolute f--king shark, the top predator in a food-chain constructed of equal parts best intentions and worst-case scenarios. Her and her team are going to help take care of your elderly mum, sure, but there also going to take everything she has in the process. I'm not a hundred percent sure if it's win-win or lose-lose, but after the first fifteen minutes or so, I was damn sure it's totally f--ked up.
