Friday, February 1, 2008

Progression (Mine or His?)

Finally got to see Dad today . . . AWAKE! I've been to the Nursing Home probably 4 or 5 times in the last 10 days or so, and he's been asleep every time. Of course, probably if I went there at 2 or 3 AM, I might find him awake . . . and then, I may not. Sometimes they tell me he is up for 2 or 3 days straight and then crashes for a couple of days. I call every morning to see how he's doing. This morning and yesterday they told me he slept through the night. They called me about 1:30 this afternoon and said he had fallen out of his wheelchair but wasn't hurt. He still doesn't understand that he can't walk and he continually tries to stand up and then . . . WHOMP! falls right down. They sit him in his wheelchair right in front of the Nurses' Station to try to keep an eye on him but sometimes he gets up before they realize it, and that's when he falls. Anyway, I had a little time before picking Mom up from Dialysis so thought I'd take a chance on finding him awake, and he was. He is to the point now where he is having trouble holding up his head, so his head is continually drooping. If you want to talk to him, you have to stand in front of his wheelchair and stoop down to his eye level, which I did. I think he knew who I was, but he didn't say my name. For some reason, he said "Amanda" (we don't know any Amanda's that I know of). I pushed him up and down the hallways, he always seems to enjoy that, but sometimes he puts his feet down, like he's putting on the brakes, and I have to tell him to hold them up. He was talking the whole way, but in jibberish that I couldn't understand, but I'm sure it made sense to him. I scratched his back for a while, he loves that, and asked him if he was happy. He laughed (sort of) and said "Yes."

That's good enough for me.

Like I said, I considered it a "good visit."

My love to all.

Peggy

P.S. Mom cried when I told her about the visit. She said she felt like he was "melting". I guess that's a good way to put it. It's just sad.

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