My Dad's Journey: A Room with a Different View

It is now a little over two months since the world my dad lived in, ceased to exist. While the past two weeks have not produced any major changes, there are quite a few little ones...and none of them are good.

My mother is with him every day for lunch, my sister-in-law visits mid-afternoon and I take the dinner shift. Dad has no clue how lucky he is to have family visit every day. After a week or so, you get to know a lot of the residents, even if it's just to say hello in the hall. So many have no one. Most are thrilled to have a stranger pass them and ask how they are feeling. The first week I was there, I smiled at a woman as she sat wheelchair bound in the hallway. Perhaps thinking I was laughing at her she screamed at me "this is not funny." Never one to let something like that go, I said "excuse me..." her reply was the same, so I told her I was only trying to say hello. Her face changed immediately and now that woman is the first to greet me everyday. As the weeks go by, it is sad as you watch the visible slide of a few. But it is another chapter of life. This is not an apartment complex, this is where old people go to die.

Dad has a cough now. X-rays showed nothing serious. A lot of small things are bothering him. He is scared because he knows every little setback in his frame of reference, is a big one. We needed to have his room changed this week. His new roommate was a younger man who required the room to be a lot cooler than my father could handle. It is the end of June and he sits in his undershirt, long sleeve t-shirt and sweatshirt...with no AC on. This move has brought on a whole new level of anxiety. The nurses and aides are different. The view out his window does not provide the same view of the birds flying in and out of the trees. No longer can he cope with any change in his routine. From the minute I walk in, he asks about what clothes he will wear to bed and what clothes he will wear in the morning.

His appetite is non-existent. One reason we want someone to be there for every meal, is to be sure he eats...something. Last night, even ice cream...the one food I thought he would never grow tired of, did not bring him any joy.

After my mother's visits and again after mine, we talk of his condition. This past week the description has changed from "he was good today" to "he was ok" and as he was last night, "he wasn't good." There hasn't been a good day in a while. So, you do what you can to make his life tolerable. As he struggles to find the words to explain his problems, you hold his hand and offer as much comfort as you can.  There is no talk of his coming home, he is fully aware that is not possible.

He loves going to therapy each morning, it gives him hope that his body can regain some of its use. He fears, as his body grows weaker, that he will soon need to give that up.

As the weeks turn into months, more and more I miss him. Though I see him daily, any meaningful conversation is impossible. Our family's SOP has always been sarcasm. That is something that now is lost on my dad.  Still, I treasure every visit.

Love you Pops.

.

My Dad's Journey: Six Weeks In

It seems, the while the bubble has not yet burst, it has developed a slow leak.

The past two weeks have been fair to good in my father's world. His therapy has been going well, his appetite has been enhanced through pharmacology and his motor skills had been improving. Until tonight.

My mother visited in the afternoon and things were good. By the time I arrived to spend dinnertime with him, things had gone decidedly downhill. Asleep when I arrived, he awoke with impaired speech and very little energy. After his vitals were taken the reason for his condition became clearer. His blood pressure had dropped to 91/55.  For a man who has battled hypertension the last 25 years, this change is extremely alarming.

Getting him to eat dinner was not as hard as I thought it would be, but it amazes me how his taste preferences have changed since he became a nursing home resident. Water, for example, was always drunk at room temperature. Once he became a patient, water needed to be cold...now cold drinks are on the shit list again.  Ice cream however, remains a perennial favorite. We try to bring him foods we think he would enjoy, to supplement the one-step-above-crap food he is served daily. At this point anything he eats is ok with us. He once weighed around 175, yesterday his weight was 108.  A UTI and thrush are the latest assaults on his tired body. Everyday, it seems there is another danger lurking.

While I haven't had another exceptional visit like the one I had when he was in the hospital, (Enjoying The Evening Light With My Dad) before being transferred to the nursing home, there have been many good visits. There have also been some very bad ones. Tonight was somewhere in the middle.

It was a rainy day today, kinda the way I felt inside.

Love you Pops.

.

Dealing With Dissapointment

I need the weekend...bad.  The week has been crazy to say the least.  Stress level borders on extreme...throw in a few insane highs with some incredible lows and here we are.

Granted some of it is my own doing. Bad job by me.  But when circumstances occur over which you have no control...then proceed to bite you in the ass...well I think it's time to double up on the BP pills.

Without going into too much detail, the sad part is that as much as I am being affected by these circumstances, there are a great number of other people who have put their hearts and souls into a specific goal.  Waiting to hear today, if that dream has crashed and burned. One person involved much more closely than I, had a great line "this has me spinning in a new dimension of pissedoffidness." Could not have said it better myself.

Hopefully, by the time I leave for my weekend therapy at the lake, we will know the outcome of the situation. I'm thinking there will be some drinking involved later. Just hoping it will be champagne.

Sometimes A Dog Walk Is Not Just A Walk With The Dog

While writing blogs is a great way to vent, it also allows other people to realize just how really screwed up you are. However, even socially malfunctioning people with writing outlets require a little therapy.

Mine occurs every Friday when we arrive at the weekend house in the Poconos.  Evening drinks on the deck, afternoons walking around the lake, or the morning walk with the dog...are all times to be savored because they are always too short.

Until I'm out the door, the morning walk is not something I generally anticipate with any degree of enjoyment.  But once the walk begins, the silence and beauty of the lake and surrounding woods lightens my mood. Turning down one road, 10 deer in the road in winter formation.  During the winter months, deer generally walk in single file in larger herds.  My guess is once the snow is broken by the leader, it's easier for the rest of the group to follow in the same footprints.  Seeing my approach, 9 veer in one direction while one doe stays behind...and stares at us.  Is she older and no longer skittish of dogs and people...or just too scared to move.  We pass and eventually she rejoins the pack.

It's around seven in the morning..the sun has just begun transforming the sky with a paintbrush of pink and blue.  The colors reflect on the newly formed ice on the lake.  No cars, no people...just a nice start to a Saturday.

Three miles around the lake this afternoon seems like a go. Hope there's a glass of wine waiting for me on the deck.  Very therapeutic indeed.