What a difference a week makes. A few days, even. It seems like my Dad is checking out. And that kills me.
The week has gone from where we could feel comfortable leaving him alone, to now, where we can’t. He’s more confused. His motor skills are failing. He doesn’t talk to us.
Just another glorious day in suck city.
He’s still eating, tho. Tonight we fed him some Poutine; he scarfed that right up. Then Bill put a bowl of ice cream in front of him. While eating it, Dad dropped a bit of ice cream on the floor. Bill and I watched him put down the ice cream bowl, use the spoon to scoop that ice cream up and put right in his mouth. [“Don’t get no better,” my Dad would’ve said.] Later, Bill put some mini eclairs and cream puffs in front of Dad; they were eaten in seconds.
We also watched as he almost dropped his glass of water, that he was holding by the handle, spilling water all over himself and his bed. We got the bed changed, but he refused to let us (or Bill) help him change his pajamas. Mom was in bed, we forced her to get a good night sleep. I figured wet pajamas wouldn’t kill him.
One of the things Mom has been saying is that she didn’t want to “lose him before I lose him.” And here it’s happening. He’s going away without us. And it’s breaking our hearts.
It is what it is. I hope that we can keep our senses of humor throughout. Find funny things to laugh at. You can’t beat some good gallows humor. So far so good. And if we burst into tears at times, well, that’s part of the journey.
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