The mini Moroccan meatballs played billiards in my gut all night. My stomach muscles are in the corner pocket. Little sleep to start the school week.
Cue Paul Simon's
"Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover".
I got to Dad's room about 3:50. He was watching Judge Joe Brown at high volume and talking very softly. He was back on oxygen with a different machine now from hospice. He was all cattywhoochee in the bed with his feet hanging off, so I went to find his aide to help me pull him back into the center.
Realigned, Dad told me he'd "been selected", that he was "perfect to be interviewed". Then he kept saying, "I think we can go anytime," but also asked me to get him some coveralls. I said he didn't need coveralls, so he asked for a shirt and slacks. He wanted me to pull up with the big red car so we could go to the Home Office. Amen.
Dad's nurse says he is now on two antibiotics, oxygen, and breathing treatments. His doctor saw him on Friday and ordered another chest xray. She saw him again today, according to the hospice social worker. I always seem to be two days behind with information about xrays or meds. I suppose it's the lag between the xray and the results, combined with the weekend staff change.
The nurse said that after the breathing treatment she was suctioning Dad's throat trying to get out a "big glob". Dad didn't want her to get it out. She said he would be able to breathe better. He said he didn't want to breathe better.
In the middle of all this the little old lady who always asks if I have seen Neil started ranting because the bus wasn't there yet. She thinks the nurses station is a bus depot. There is a certain similarity with all the people speaking in tongues, but the floor is less sticky and I'm not so scared to go in the restrooms.
I went back to Dad's room. He was watching Judge Judy and saying how much he liked Judge Judy and Judge Roy Bean and Nancy Grace "even though she is always wrong." Then I got a call from the hospice social worker whose name is, drumroll please:
Eden. I kid you not.
Eden was concerned because we do not have a Texas Out of Hospital Do Not Resuscitate form on file, but now we do. Also, The Five Wishes, Dad's advanced care preference document is not recognized in Texas. Eden says it should be because it is the most detailed directive available.
Eden told me the hospice chaplain had visited Dad today about the same time as his doctor. Maybe the chaplain visit turned into being "selected for an interview". Dad wanted to tell his aide about his "selection" after supper.
I asked Dad if he saw the doctor today. "No time," he said. "I got on the train very early to come to Plano." At some point he also told me he "drove to Schuyler and Plainview". Maybe the sound of the oxygen machine makes him think he's on some mode of transportation.
Dad's supper was the ugliest meal I've seen since we brought him to Plano. Boiled purple cabbage, green peas, gooey bread, red juice (thickened), a scoop of ground ham with yellow gravy on top, vanilla ice cream, and a frosted chocolate brownie. This makes up for the meal with minestrone that looked almost good enough for me to request.
When I tried to feed Dad he slapped at me, so I let him struggle along. It was very sad to watch. He kept flopping over to his right, so he could hardly suck the juice through the straw. I kept propping him up.
I had a little chat with Fritzi and told her I'd done the very best I could for Howie. I just pray that he will get on the bus, Gus, with or without coveralls.
Tranquility Base suggests eating dessert first.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
2 comments:
It takes a lot of love and courage to be with your dad through this time. I send you wishes for continued strength every day.
Oh, my. Wishing you well on the way to the Home Office. I'm glad Eden is there, too.
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