Dad and I are having another one of our early morning coffee dates. Well, he's having morphine, I'm having coffee... Between snippets of conversation and adjusting positions with my help, he's mostly sleeping through this one.
Peaceful. There's no other way to describe him these recent months, weeks, hours...
The tech just stopped by for his vitals. Dad drifted in and out of sleep for most of her visit, but during the awake moments he checked in with her about her own personal well-being. His temperature is "perfect" right now she said. Because he's having a hard time hearing, I repeated "you're perfect Dad". He responded "ok, you'll just have to remind your mother from time to time." Gahhhh, always with the jokes! As the tech left his room she softly said "what a sweet man".
His janitor made a point to come by earlier last night to say "see ya later" as she headed for her days off. Dad knows nearly everyone who has touched him this week and has made it a point to call them by their first name at some point during their trip through his room. Only he could find a way to bond with the woman who mops his floor and empties his garbage after three days on this floor, all while he suffers like this. I've had paper cuts that made me unkind and crabby. This is nothing short of Jesus in him; although you know I hate cliche, there's simply no other way to describe it.
Cancer in the bones is said to be the most intense type of pain, yet dad isn't complaining. Not ever. He will answer assessment questions honestly (although we all know he's a bit of a minimizer) and occasionally will initiate a request for meds, but never has a whine or pity party speech and hardly a groan utters from his lips. Dad's chief concern has been the comfort level and emotional support of those who cannot help but feel desperate or sad watching him suffer.
I cannot decide what to prepare myself for in the coming days or weeks in terms of his life and death. He is still so strong, yet his body mocks him. It is becoming evident that he may not be able to physically qualify for a skilled nursing (rehab center) by Monday. We were told yesterday the recommendation would be Assisted Living or Home Hospice if strength and mobility continue to decline. Because Dad's not a quitter when it comes to anything, especially physical labor, rehab may actually work against him at this point... There are still so many decisions and "Be Still" is all we can do in this moment.
Thursday night the doctor had prepped us for the probability that they would need to drain the left lung again on Friday. We spent the day anticipating that adventure to the radiology department. In the late afternoon it was decided that since the lung was stable and his saturation levels remain good on oxygen, they'd give his body a break. Friday was very painful for him. Because he was on three differing styles of delivery and types of pain control, Dad lacked the ability to stay awake most of the day. He knew he was struggling to be awake and asked his mom not to feel like she had to leave if he slept. He wanted the opportunity to visit with her if he woke up and planned only a little nap... Grandma was at his bed most of the day with only a few sentences of conversation between naps.
Because some days have always been worse than others regarding his bone pain and he was relatively energetic Thursday, I have no idea what to expect today. We will need to find balance today between being able to be with him without wearing him out by our presence
There are so many thoughts pacing my mind that I have yet to find a way to articulate, I think I'll stop trying for now. I'll leave you with the song that is currently on repeat while I sip coffee and write as well as a few pictures. My Nikon hasn't come out much, because I'm not sure how much to document and who I might unintentionally affect negatively. I have had the opportunity to collect a few shots that I know I'll treasure, but for now I'll keep them for me.
When he was about 10 and I was about 8 someone gave him a Bible (it may have been our maternal grandmother, Maude Loftin, because she gave me one as well a few years later. He decided he wanted to read it from beginning to end. Mom suggested he start with the New Testament and THEN go back to the Old Testament. Being a very logical fellow he said you should never start reading a book from the middle! So he started with the Old Testament. As I always wanted to do everything he did (I was surely the peskiest little sister ever) a few weeks into his project I coaxed him into starting over and both of us reading it together. He would read out loud to me and there were lots of words neither of us could sound out or make sense of! When we got to Deuteronomy with all the "begets" we could not understand much of any of it. I remember Larry asking Mom several times, each times a little more indignant, what "beget" meant and she would always either change the subject or say "you're too young to understand." Now telling either of us (I'm just as stubborn as he is) we couldn't do or understand something was nothing but a challenge to us. So, we spent a good deal of time in a dictionary trying to determine what it meant. I think the light dawned on Larry first, because he finally told me that we would "just skip" ahead and come back to it later. After finishing with Revelations, Larry decided we needed to start over again, because now some things were more clear than they were on the first reading. By that time I had found other things to grab my interest and I left the second reading to him! I took it up again in my teenage years and read all the way through for the second time in my life, and believe me, I finally understood why Mom felt we should have omitted the Old Testament until we were "older!"
"Take Heart" is the song on repeat during this date.
I see Larry looks like our grandpa CP and Kevin looks much like his Dad, my Uncle Gene. Give them all my love, we seldom see one another. Collene, your writing is so enlightening (as is Gail's). Praying for your family. Phyllis McKay
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