This week, Dad enjoyed some Christmas caroling at the care center, he came to our big Christmas Eve celebration and then had a quiet Christmas Day.
The staff at the center told Martha that on one day last week, three different groups came to the care facility to sing to the residents. Apparently, some of the singers commented on how many of the carols Dad knew--Mom's legacy to Dad and to all her children.
On another day, I brought the teens from the Juvenile Justice facility where I volunteer to sing at the care center. Dad got teary because the singing made him think of Mom.
Martha arranged for Dad to come to our family Christmas Eve celebration--held at the church near Dad's house because we were having such a crowd. I'm not sure what the final count was--maybe 36 people.
The staff at the care center got Dad dressed and helped Martha get him into the car. Family members helped get him out of the car and into the church. He seemed to enjoy the food and ate a lot of "befores," including some pickled herring. He also ate some of the traditional Swedish "dip," gravy with roast beef and sausage that's eaten with heavy bread soaked in the gravy.
Dad even had some rice pudding for dessert! Not usually his favorite dish, but he finished off a bowl of it.
Dad was quiet, but enjoyed a number of short conversations with family members during the evening. We were all glad Dad was able to be there.
On Christmas Day when I visited Dad, he was tired--not surprisingly. I had brought a tape player and his favorite recording of Pride and Prejudice to listen to. Dad chuckled at the first few witty lines, but I wasn't sure that he wasn't just taking his cue from me; then he closed his eyes and went to sleep. I didn't know if Dad was just tired or if he's moving a little further away from us, something that's hard to face.
Today my brothers, Alan and John, visited Dad together. Alan said Dad seemed fairly engaged. He was sitting up in bed, eating breakfast when they arrived. The aide said he'd picked hot cereal to eat. He also had yogurt and juice. The aide comments that if they bring too much food, he won’t eat anything, but if they bring him less, he eats.
Alan said that Dad didn’t say much, but he chuckled at the funny stories.
As always we appreciate your visits to Dad, your interest in him, and your love for him.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
How Dad's doing at the care center
I've had the flu, so I saw Dad on Dec. 8 and then didn't see him again until today, Dec. 20. So I've culled some of this post from what the nurse and others have said about Dad and from a long email from Lucy's husband, Bob Nickelson.
First from me and reports from nurses:
Dad is the star of the care center, loved by everyone. Dad's aide in the daytime told Martha that she loved to hear his stories(!) On Tuesday night when I was there for the Christmas party, the aide came by with her little granddaughter to have Dad meet her.
The head nurse told me that she'd asked Dad how long he and Mom were married, and he thought for a long time, closed his eyes for awhile, and then said to the nurse that when he saw her again, Mom would get after him for not remembering how long they'd been married! Both stories are surprising to me because at home he hasn't been that responsive for a long time. I'm also pleased, but not surprised, that the workers at the facility have taken Dad to their hearts. One aide told me, "Marshall and I have a lot to talk about because we're both from the South."
Here's Bob's report on his visit to Dad on Dec. 9:
I went over and visited with Dad last Wednesday evening from a little after 4pm till about 6:30 pm . He had removed his O2 and it was on the floor but the machine was still running. I visited with him about the fact that if he decided not to wear his O2 that he would become very sick as a result - I then asked him if he wanted me to help him put it back on - he thought about it for a while and then said yes.
Next, Dad and I looked at some photos I took of Christmas lights - he commented on the colors and the people in some of the other photos - for example I showed him the photo I took of Louise [Lucy] and the rain barrel she and I constructed - he said something about it being a good idea. I also showed him two of the videos I took of the concert [Martha's Christmas Chorus that Lucy and her daughter Kari sing in, also Elaine--John's wife, their daughter Lisa, and Katy and Emily, Martha's daughters] - he was able to pick out Martha and Louise - he also commented on how good the video sounded.
Then a small group of primary children came in and sang Christmas music for him and gave him two Christmas ornaments - he thanked them and wished them a Merry Christmas.
I asked if he wanted to try calling and talking to family members using my cell phone and he did want to - so I tried calling Alan first without success and then Christie without success and then we called and talked to John and Lisa - the phone visit seemed like a success - he wished Lisa the best on her last day of classes (at BYU) and told her to hang in there - then Lisa said something about coming to visit after she finished the semester and Dad's response was, "Well I am not sure about visiting - you will need to talk to Ruth about scheduling such a visit."
I think it was interesting that he was with it enough to wish Lisa well with the rest of the semester but then slipped out of reality when Lisa asked about her visiting - that was the only slipping out of reality that happened during the whole time I was there at least as far as I could tell.
Then it was time to eat dinner - he drank all of the liquids served but only ate a bite or two of each of the different solid foods (with me encouraging him to try a little of everything) he did comment to the nurse how dark the bottom of the cookie was twice but he ate most of it anyway.
He called me by name several times and was very happy to see me. He did comment on how itchy he was but he put his hands on top of the blankets as a sign that he was trying hard not to scratch himself - the only complaints he had while I was there was that his back was hurting him and that it was noisy. I think that it was the pain in his back that really prevented him from eating more of his dinner - it just got to a point where he needed to lie back in bed so his back would stop hurting.
When I asked him what he thought about the food being served at the center - his reply was "uh" lifting both hands and arms up - the only thing he seemed really interested in eating was the cookie and he also seemed to like the milk even though it was thick enough you could tip the glass over and the milk and the spoon both remained in the glass. As I was leaving, he wished me well and said he loved me too.
He took his pills just fine and responded well to the nurse and the CNA. All in all it was a good visit.
Back to Alison:
Dad's had a number of visitors in the past two weeks: the Wolfs from our ward--Sheldon was Dad's home teacher for many years; his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig; his great-nephew David James and his wife and little son; lots of family members. Dad's also had numerous cards and letters from family and friends. If you visit Dad, please remember to sign the log, so we know who's come by--Dad won't be able to remember even though he'll enjoy your visit while you're there.
Tonight when I visited Dad, I reached my brother Alan in the Washington, D.C. area on my cell phone and then my sister Christie in Pittsburgh, so Dad was able to talk on the phone with them for a bit. I took my grandson, Jeffrey, out into the hall during most of the phone calls--the center has a cat, birds, fish, and a dog, and Jeffrey thinks they're fascinating! However, I did overhear Dad telling Alan that he was doing as well as could be expected for being in the hospital--probably a good way for Dad to think about where he is. He told Christie that they mostly ignore him there--not true, but he may feel that way after having a person available to him 24/7 at home.
My friend Barbara, Dad's nurse, told me she was pleased with how Dad seemed when she saw him on Saturday. She said he had a pillow under his ankles just like we had at home and that his heels looked "white as the driven snow"--it's easy for a person's heels to reddden and get bedsores if their heels are flat on the bed. She found one cup of unthickened liquid on his bedside table--he's supposed to only have thickened liquids. When she reported the problem to the nurse, they realized someone new hadn't known to give Dad only thickened liquids, and promised to make sure she knew from now on. Overall, she was very impressed with the care he's getting at the care facility.
We're grateful for your interest in Dad. We're especially aware of the great gift of family at this time of year, and wish you a joyful and happy time as we celebrate Christ's birth.
First from me and reports from nurses:
Dad is the star of the care center, loved by everyone. Dad's aide in the daytime told Martha that she loved to hear his stories(!) On Tuesday night when I was there for the Christmas party, the aide came by with her little granddaughter to have Dad meet her.
The head nurse told me that she'd asked Dad how long he and Mom were married, and he thought for a long time, closed his eyes for awhile, and then said to the nurse that when he saw her again, Mom would get after him for not remembering how long they'd been married! Both stories are surprising to me because at home he hasn't been that responsive for a long time. I'm also pleased, but not surprised, that the workers at the facility have taken Dad to their hearts. One aide told me, "Marshall and I have a lot to talk about because we're both from the South."
Here's Bob's report on his visit to Dad on Dec. 9:
I went over and visited with Dad last Wednesday evening from a little after 4pm till about 6:30 pm . He had removed his O2 and it was on the floor but the machine was still running. I visited with him about the fact that if he decided not to wear his O2 that he would become very sick as a result - I then asked him if he wanted me to help him put it back on - he thought about it for a while and then said yes.
Next, Dad and I looked at some photos I took of Christmas lights - he commented on the colors and the people in some of the other photos - for example I showed him the photo I took of Louise [Lucy] and the rain barrel she and I constructed - he said something about it being a good idea. I also showed him two of the videos I took of the concert [Martha's Christmas Chorus that Lucy and her daughter Kari sing in, also Elaine--John's wife, their daughter Lisa, and Katy and Emily, Martha's daughters] - he was able to pick out Martha and Louise - he also commented on how good the video sounded.
Then a small group of primary children came in and sang Christmas music for him and gave him two Christmas ornaments - he thanked them and wished them a Merry Christmas.
I asked if he wanted to try calling and talking to family members using my cell phone and he did want to - so I tried calling Alan first without success and then Christie without success and then we called and talked to John and Lisa - the phone visit seemed like a success - he wished Lisa the best on her last day of classes (at BYU) and told her to hang in there - then Lisa said something about coming to visit after she finished the semester and Dad's response was, "Well I am not sure about visiting - you will need to talk to Ruth about scheduling such a visit."
I think it was interesting that he was with it enough to wish Lisa well with the rest of the semester but then slipped out of reality when Lisa asked about her visiting - that was the only slipping out of reality that happened during the whole time I was there at least as far as I could tell.
Then it was time to eat dinner - he drank all of the liquids served but only ate a bite or two of each of the different solid foods (with me encouraging him to try a little of everything) he did comment to the nurse how dark the bottom of the cookie was twice but he ate most of it anyway.
He called me by name several times and was very happy to see me. He did comment on how itchy he was but he put his hands on top of the blankets as a sign that he was trying hard not to scratch himself - the only complaints he had while I was there was that his back was hurting him and that it was noisy. I think that it was the pain in his back that really prevented him from eating more of his dinner - it just got to a point where he needed to lie back in bed so his back would stop hurting.
When I asked him what he thought about the food being served at the center - his reply was "uh" lifting both hands and arms up - the only thing he seemed really interested in eating was the cookie and he also seemed to like the milk even though it was thick enough you could tip the glass over and the milk and the spoon both remained in the glass. As I was leaving, he wished me well and said he loved me too.
He took his pills just fine and responded well to the nurse and the CNA. All in all it was a good visit.
Back to Alison:
Dad's had a number of visitors in the past two weeks: the Wolfs from our ward--Sheldon was Dad's home teacher for many years; his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig; his great-nephew David James and his wife and little son; lots of family members. Dad's also had numerous cards and letters from family and friends. If you visit Dad, please remember to sign the log, so we know who's come by--Dad won't be able to remember even though he'll enjoy your visit while you're there.
Tonight when I visited Dad, I reached my brother Alan in the Washington, D.C. area on my cell phone and then my sister Christie in Pittsburgh, so Dad was able to talk on the phone with them for a bit. I took my grandson, Jeffrey, out into the hall during most of the phone calls--the center has a cat, birds, fish, and a dog, and Jeffrey thinks they're fascinating! However, I did overhear Dad telling Alan that he was doing as well as could be expected for being in the hospital--probably a good way for Dad to think about where he is. He told Christie that they mostly ignore him there--not true, but he may feel that way after having a person available to him 24/7 at home.
My friend Barbara, Dad's nurse, told me she was pleased with how Dad seemed when she saw him on Saturday. She said he had a pillow under his ankles just like we had at home and that his heels looked "white as the driven snow"--it's easy for a person's heels to reddden and get bedsores if their heels are flat on the bed. She found one cup of unthickened liquid on his bedside table--he's supposed to only have thickened liquids. When she reported the problem to the nurse, they realized someone new hadn't known to give Dad only thickened liquids, and promised to make sure she knew from now on. Overall, she was very impressed with the care he's getting at the care facility.
We're grateful for your interest in Dad. We're especially aware of the great gift of family at this time of year, and wish you a joyful and happy time as we celebrate Christ's birth.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Dad's transfer to Hobble Creek Care Center
Sorry, I didn't realize how long it's been since I wrote an update on Dad.
Since the 18th of November, we've had Thanksgiving dinner at our house; however, Dad wasn't able to participate much. He was already hallucinating a bit before the family arrived, and though he didn't come to dinner, he had a number of visitors, so he was hallucinating a lot by the end of the day. (Dad ate a meal of Thanksgiving favorites in his bedroom with Martha.)
He had a pretty normal week, but last Sunday he again had lots of visitors because people knew he would be going into the care center during the week. He usually is willing to come into the livingroom a couple of times in the week, but that day, he wanted to come out twice. The second time, I didn't think he could walk that far even with his walker, so I tried to get him into his wheelchair. He couldn't figure out how to turn around to sit down in it, so I had to hold him up and keep saying, "Turn your feet." I finally got him into the wheelchair and into the livingroom, but instead of being willing to stay in the wheelchair as I'd expected, he wanted to sit on the couch. Again, I had to support his weight and direct him how to turn his feet, so he could sit on the couch.
Dad's grandson, Michael Craig (John and Elaine's adopted son) came by with his wife to visit while Dad was in the livingroom. It was providential because when Dad needed to get up and go back to his room, I needed Michael's help to get him back in his wheelchair, onto the commode, and back into bed.
That night I gave Dad a small dose of anti-psychotic medication (haldol) we're to use if he's hallucinating. It didn't work--he was awake and talking all night long--which meant I was also awake all night long. More haldol and a sleeping pill didn't help. Monday morning, Dad was still awake and hallucinating, calling to me whenever I left the room. Two more doses of haldol in the morning still didn't help. In the morning, I got Dad on the commode--he was even worse in terms of being able to stand up, balance himself, turn around, etc. I left the room briefly, and when I got back into the room, Dad was sliding off the side of the bed! He'd tried to get back in bed without help.
I was so distraught, I yelled at him--something I never do. When I told him he couldn't get himself from the commode without help, he said, "Well, the truth is, I wasn't on the commode." Still being sweet and mild-mannered, but just not aware of what he was doing!
By the end of the morning, I called Martha to say we needed to get Dad into the care center that day--I was just at the end of my rope. We did get him admitted Monday evening. But in the meantime, the hospice doctor had us give Dad 10 more milligrams of haldol--on top of what I'd already given him. The doctor expected it to knock him out, but it didn't--it just made him agitated. While waiting for the ambulance come to transport Dad to the care facility, Bob (Lucy's husband) and Dave (Martha's husband) gave Dad a priesthood blessing. Then the two of them stood on either side of the bed, just holding on to Dad, calming him, and keeping him from climbing out of bed, which he was trying to do at least once every minute.
Dad was awake all night at the care center Monday night and all morning Tuesday morning. Finally on Tuesday afternoon, Dad fell asleep, and starting on Wed., Dad became more lucid. The rest of the week, he's been lucid for the most part.
He's had a number of conversations with people about where he is--he doesn't remember. I especially liked the answer the hospice chaplain gave him. When Dad said he didn't know where he was, the chaplain said, "You're in a place where they can take care of you 24 hours a day, so you'll get the kind of care you need." (When he was telling me what he'd told Dad, he said, "Of course, you were helping him in the night." I understood, and really liked his response because it was emphasizing the positive rather than focusing on our inability to keep Dad at home.)
I feel like Heavenly Father made sure that Sunday and Monday were so awful that I would know that we absolutely couldn't keep Dad at home any longer. Because it was so clear to me that he needed to be in the care center, I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling peaceful and relieved.
I also told John about a "conversation" I had with Mom about putting Dad into a care facility. A week ago Saturday, I was talking to Mom in my mind, saying, "I'm sorry we weren't able to keep Dad hom until he died." A memory came to my mind with such sharpness, it was like a reply. I remembered that when Mom's mother refused to go into a care facility, Mom told all of us that if we ever needed to put them into a care facility, she was telling us that we had their permission to do it. I felt comforted by that memory also and felt that Mom was accepting and approving of our decision.
If you're nearby, feel free to visit Dad at Hobble Creek Care Center at 469 N. Main in Springville. Remind him who you are, visit for 5 or 10 minutes only, and please sign the visitors' log, the notebook on his dresser. (Although Dad will enjoy the visit, he won't remember who visited, so the log will help us know you've stopped by.)
We're going to talk to the staff about getting Dad a cell phone, so people can call him, but right now there isn't a way to phone Dad.
As always, we appreciate your interest, love, and prayers.
Since the 18th of November, we've had Thanksgiving dinner at our house; however, Dad wasn't able to participate much. He was already hallucinating a bit before the family arrived, and though he didn't come to dinner, he had a number of visitors, so he was hallucinating a lot by the end of the day. (Dad ate a meal of Thanksgiving favorites in his bedroom with Martha.)
He had a pretty normal week, but last Sunday he again had lots of visitors because people knew he would be going into the care center during the week. He usually is willing to come into the livingroom a couple of times in the week, but that day, he wanted to come out twice. The second time, I didn't think he could walk that far even with his walker, so I tried to get him into his wheelchair. He couldn't figure out how to turn around to sit down in it, so I had to hold him up and keep saying, "Turn your feet." I finally got him into the wheelchair and into the livingroom, but instead of being willing to stay in the wheelchair as I'd expected, he wanted to sit on the couch. Again, I had to support his weight and direct him how to turn his feet, so he could sit on the couch.
Dad's grandson, Michael Craig (John and Elaine's adopted son) came by with his wife to visit while Dad was in the livingroom. It was providential because when Dad needed to get up and go back to his room, I needed Michael's help to get him back in his wheelchair, onto the commode, and back into bed.
That night I gave Dad a small dose of anti-psychotic medication (haldol) we're to use if he's hallucinating. It didn't work--he was awake and talking all night long--which meant I was also awake all night long. More haldol and a sleeping pill didn't help. Monday morning, Dad was still awake and hallucinating, calling to me whenever I left the room. Two more doses of haldol in the morning still didn't help. In the morning, I got Dad on the commode--he was even worse in terms of being able to stand up, balance himself, turn around, etc. I left the room briefly, and when I got back into the room, Dad was sliding off the side of the bed! He'd tried to get back in bed without help.
I was so distraught, I yelled at him--something I never do. When I told him he couldn't get himself from the commode without help, he said, "Well, the truth is, I wasn't on the commode." Still being sweet and mild-mannered, but just not aware of what he was doing!
By the end of the morning, I called Martha to say we needed to get Dad into the care center that day--I was just at the end of my rope. We did get him admitted Monday evening. But in the meantime, the hospice doctor had us give Dad 10 more milligrams of haldol--on top of what I'd already given him. The doctor expected it to knock him out, but it didn't--it just made him agitated. While waiting for the ambulance come to transport Dad to the care facility, Bob (Lucy's husband) and Dave (Martha's husband) gave Dad a priesthood blessing. Then the two of them stood on either side of the bed, just holding on to Dad, calming him, and keeping him from climbing out of bed, which he was trying to do at least once every minute.
Dad was awake all night at the care center Monday night and all morning Tuesday morning. Finally on Tuesday afternoon, Dad fell asleep, and starting on Wed., Dad became more lucid. The rest of the week, he's been lucid for the most part.
He's had a number of conversations with people about where he is--he doesn't remember. I especially liked the answer the hospice chaplain gave him. When Dad said he didn't know where he was, the chaplain said, "You're in a place where they can take care of you 24 hours a day, so you'll get the kind of care you need." (When he was telling me what he'd told Dad, he said, "Of course, you were helping him in the night." I understood, and really liked his response because it was emphasizing the positive rather than focusing on our inability to keep Dad at home.)
I feel like Heavenly Father made sure that Sunday and Monday were so awful that I would know that we absolutely couldn't keep Dad at home any longer. Because it was so clear to me that he needed to be in the care center, I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling peaceful and relieved.
I also told John about a "conversation" I had with Mom about putting Dad into a care facility. A week ago Saturday, I was talking to Mom in my mind, saying, "I'm sorry we weren't able to keep Dad hom until he died." A memory came to my mind with such sharpness, it was like a reply. I remembered that when Mom's mother refused to go into a care facility, Mom told all of us that if we ever needed to put them into a care facility, she was telling us that we had their permission to do it. I felt comforted by that memory also and felt that Mom was accepting and approving of our decision.
If you're nearby, feel free to visit Dad at Hobble Creek Care Center at 469 N. Main in Springville. Remind him who you are, visit for 5 or 10 minutes only, and please sign the visitors' log, the notebook on his dresser. (Although Dad will enjoy the visit, he won't remember who visited, so the log will help us know you've stopped by.)
We're going to talk to the staff about getting Dad a cell phone, so people can call him, but right now there isn't a way to phone Dad.
As always, we appreciate your interest, love, and prayers.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Nov. 18--A difficult decision
This week Dad's children made the difficult decision to put him in a care center. We won't move him till after Thanksgiving, but the plan is to move him by the end of the month.
Such a decision may come as a surprise to many, but it's been a decision that we've been discussing for some time. We've all been getting near the end of our endurance. It's been like we've all been waiting to see which family member would cry "Uncle" first.
Well, one of us did cry "Uncle," and we all knew that meant it was time for the rest of us to cry "Uncle" too.
I've cried a lot about this decision because I wanted to be able to give Dad the gift of dying at home, but when I've prayed about it--and I've prayed about it a lot--I've felt that he wasn't going to die at home.
We've chosen the Hobble Creek Care Center on Main Street in Springville--assuming they still have a free bed at the end of the month. Martha has visited this care center, and we've had recommendations about it from others.
John, Martha and I told Dad on Monday night about his having to go into a care facility. He had so little reaction it was hard to tell if he even understood what we were saying.
On Tuesday, Dad didn't remember what we'd talked about, so I told him again, more simply, and he said, "I'll try to force myself to remember." But still he didn't have any clear emotional reaction.
Since Monday night, he's been hallucinating more at night. I don't know if there's a connection or not.
In happier news, Ruth Seppi Hamilton, Christie's oldest daughter had a baby girl on Nov. 12. I showed Dad the pictures of Eliana Sophie Hamilton this evening, and he chuckled as he looked at the pictures of his 21st great-grandchild. When I told him that Ruth said that she and her husband Alan were "head-over-heels in love" with their daughter, he said, "I can imagine!"
As always, thanks for your love and concern for Dad.
Such a decision may come as a surprise to many, but it's been a decision that we've been discussing for some time. We've all been getting near the end of our endurance. It's been like we've all been waiting to see which family member would cry "Uncle" first.
Well, one of us did cry "Uncle," and we all knew that meant it was time for the rest of us to cry "Uncle" too.
I've cried a lot about this decision because I wanted to be able to give Dad the gift of dying at home, but when I've prayed about it--and I've prayed about it a lot--I've felt that he wasn't going to die at home.
We've chosen the Hobble Creek Care Center on Main Street in Springville--assuming they still have a free bed at the end of the month. Martha has visited this care center, and we've had recommendations about it from others.
John, Martha and I told Dad on Monday night about his having to go into a care facility. He had so little reaction it was hard to tell if he even understood what we were saying.
On Tuesday, Dad didn't remember what we'd talked about, so I told him again, more simply, and he said, "I'll try to force myself to remember." But still he didn't have any clear emotional reaction.
Since Monday night, he's been hallucinating more at night. I don't know if there's a connection or not.
In happier news, Ruth Seppi Hamilton, Christie's oldest daughter had a baby girl on Nov. 12. I showed Dad the pictures of Eliana Sophie Hamilton this evening, and he chuckled as he looked at the pictures of his 21st great-grandchild. When I told him that Ruth said that she and her husband Alan were "head-over-heels in love" with their daughter, he said, "I can imagine!"
As always, thanks for your love and concern for Dad.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Nov. 10 Update
We've had another week of ups and downs.
Dad clearly had a urinary tract infection Friday night and Saturday morning, so he now has a catheter, something we've really debated whether we wanted. I'm sold on it already! Dad's gotten up much less in the night--which is good for us since someone has to be here and "on call" all night to help Dad get in and out of bed. The other day Dad told his aide, Cris, that he'd had a really good night, and I realized it was good for him also to get a better night's sleep.
On Saturday or Sunday, Dad was saying a blessing on our meal, and he got stuck in the middle of something he was trying to say. I had to help him come up with a way to finish what he was saying. Then he didn't seem to know how to end the prayer. I said, "in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen," and he repeated it. (You have to understand that this is the standard way to end a Mormon prayer, so Dad's been saying it all his life!)
However, Barbara, Dad's nurse, explained to me that a mental lapse like that was caused by the infection, and that when the antibiotic started working, Dad's mental abilities would also improve. She was right--this morning, I opened the curtains in Dad's bedroom, and he looked out and commented on how pretty the apple tree outside his window looks.
Another low this week happened when Dad aspirated his mouthwash that we give him at night to rinse his mouth out. He choked, vomited, and coughed and coughed and coughed--I thought I'd killed him! His voice still sounds raspy, and he coughed and choked again tonight, but he's survived.
It turns out that we shouldn't have been giving Dad mouthwash--at least not to swish around in his mouth. We should have been cleaning his teeth with a swab dipped in mouthwash. It seems to me to be one of the classic problems we've encountered as care givers--the hospice people don't know everything we're doing, so they can't correct our mistakes. We're new to care giving, so we don't know that we're doing something wrong until it goes very wrong! From now on we'll be swabbing Dad's teeth.
On the positive side, Dad and I have been listening to a recording of Winnie-the-Pooh together. He's clearly following the story, chuckling at Milne's language and Lionel Jeffries' delightful performance.
This week when I teased Dad about not having any castor oil to dose him with, he laughed and said, "That's lucky!" He chuckled when I told him I was going to raise him "stem and stern"--as I raised his feet and head in his bed.
Last Wednesday morning, when I went in to check on Dad, he said, "It's hard to believe." When I asked him what he meant, he said, "It's hard to believe how I feel," and he made OK signs with both hands, indicating he was feeling wonderful.
The night Dad aspirated his mouthwash, I was apologizing to him to causing him to cough so much, and in the midst of his coughing, he was apologizing to me for causing me problems! He's an amazing man!
Dad clearly had a urinary tract infection Friday night and Saturday morning, so he now has a catheter, something we've really debated whether we wanted. I'm sold on it already! Dad's gotten up much less in the night--which is good for us since someone has to be here and "on call" all night to help Dad get in and out of bed. The other day Dad told his aide, Cris, that he'd had a really good night, and I realized it was good for him also to get a better night's sleep.
On Saturday or Sunday, Dad was saying a blessing on our meal, and he got stuck in the middle of something he was trying to say. I had to help him come up with a way to finish what he was saying. Then he didn't seem to know how to end the prayer. I said, "in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen," and he repeated it. (You have to understand that this is the standard way to end a Mormon prayer, so Dad's been saying it all his life!)
However, Barbara, Dad's nurse, explained to me that a mental lapse like that was caused by the infection, and that when the antibiotic started working, Dad's mental abilities would also improve. She was right--this morning, I opened the curtains in Dad's bedroom, and he looked out and commented on how pretty the apple tree outside his window looks.
Another low this week happened when Dad aspirated his mouthwash that we give him at night to rinse his mouth out. He choked, vomited, and coughed and coughed and coughed--I thought I'd killed him! His voice still sounds raspy, and he coughed and choked again tonight, but he's survived.
It turns out that we shouldn't have been giving Dad mouthwash--at least not to swish around in his mouth. We should have been cleaning his teeth with a swab dipped in mouthwash. It seems to me to be one of the classic problems we've encountered as care givers--the hospice people don't know everything we're doing, so they can't correct our mistakes. We're new to care giving, so we don't know that we're doing something wrong until it goes very wrong! From now on we'll be swabbing Dad's teeth.
On the positive side, Dad and I have been listening to a recording of Winnie-the-Pooh together. He's clearly following the story, chuckling at Milne's language and Lionel Jeffries' delightful performance.
This week when I teased Dad about not having any castor oil to dose him with, he laughed and said, "That's lucky!" He chuckled when I told him I was going to raise him "stem and stern"--as I raised his feet and head in his bed.
Last Wednesday morning, when I went in to check on Dad, he said, "It's hard to believe." When I asked him what he meant, he said, "It's hard to believe how I feel," and he made OK signs with both hands, indicating he was feeling wonderful.
The night Dad aspirated his mouthwash, I was apologizing to him to causing him to cough so much, and in the midst of his coughing, he was apologizing to me for causing me problems! He's an amazing man!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Report as of Nov. 1
Well, it's been a quiet week here--with Dad getting slightly worse in some ways.
My siblings are seeing some of the same mental problems I've seen for some time. Here's the most recent example I've seen: Today I asked Dad if he wanted to get back in bed. He emphatically replied that he didn't. I asked if he wanted to come in the livingroom, and he said yes. But when I tried to get him up to go in the livingroom, it turned out he'd misuinderstood what I'd said, and gotten my questions backwards--he wanted to go to bed!
On Monday, Dad had a dream that was very disturbing to him, but he couldn't come up with the words to describe it to me. He finally told me it was a nightmare, but he couldn't explain it further.
On the other hand, on Friday, Dad noticed the rosy light from the sunset on the mountains he can see out of his windows. He commented twice on how beautiful they looked.
Dad enjoyed seeing Rick Whisamore and the Whisamore kids--Dad's great-grandkids who've moved to Utah from Virginia. (The kids are Alan and Janice's daughter Beth's kids.) Rick replaced our front door knob, painted the front door, and attached some bedrails to Dad's bed.
The Whisamore kids enjoyed trying out the remote control for the bed and experimenting with the different massage settings while their Papadaddy was in the livingroom.
Katy Sargent, her brother Jeff and his kids Lily and Collin came by in costume on Halloween along with Martha. They enjoyed the homemade root beer our neighbor Naomi Diamond brought us. (Earlier in the week Naomi brought some apple crisp she made with apples from our trees--Dad gobbled that up!)
Here's Dad's humor for the week: Dad's had more fluid in his lungs and more swelling in his feet. It's likely caused by his heart pumping less effectively. Because of the extra fluid Dad's retaining, I gave him extra diuretic two days in a row--maybe too much at once. He didn't become dehydrated, but he did get extra thirsty. Last night he said to Janie, "What does a person have to do to get a drink around here?" He happily drank the juice Janie brought him.
That's all for this week. Thank you for your interest and prayers!
My siblings are seeing some of the same mental problems I've seen for some time. Here's the most recent example I've seen: Today I asked Dad if he wanted to get back in bed. He emphatically replied that he didn't. I asked if he wanted to come in the livingroom, and he said yes. But when I tried to get him up to go in the livingroom, it turned out he'd misuinderstood what I'd said, and gotten my questions backwards--he wanted to go to bed!
On Monday, Dad had a dream that was very disturbing to him, but he couldn't come up with the words to describe it to me. He finally told me it was a nightmare, but he couldn't explain it further.
On the other hand, on Friday, Dad noticed the rosy light from the sunset on the mountains he can see out of his windows. He commented twice on how beautiful they looked.
Dad enjoyed seeing Rick Whisamore and the Whisamore kids--Dad's great-grandkids who've moved to Utah from Virginia. (The kids are Alan and Janice's daughter Beth's kids.) Rick replaced our front door knob, painted the front door, and attached some bedrails to Dad's bed.
The Whisamore kids enjoyed trying out the remote control for the bed and experimenting with the different massage settings while their Papadaddy was in the livingroom.
Katy Sargent, her brother Jeff and his kids Lily and Collin came by in costume on Halloween along with Martha. They enjoyed the homemade root beer our neighbor Naomi Diamond brought us. (Earlier in the week Naomi brought some apple crisp she made with apples from our trees--Dad gobbled that up!)
Here's Dad's humor for the week: Dad's had more fluid in his lungs and more swelling in his feet. It's likely caused by his heart pumping less effectively. Because of the extra fluid Dad's retaining, I gave him extra diuretic two days in a row--maybe too much at once. He didn't become dehydrated, but he did get extra thirsty. Last night he said to Janie, "What does a person have to do to get a drink around here?" He happily drank the juice Janie brought him.
That's all for this week. Thank you for your interest and prayers!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sorry to be slow to get a new post up!
Since Oct. 11th, Dad's fallen twice and done some risky things like trying to get out of bed on the wrong side of the bed. Blessedly, he hasn't been seriously injured in his falls. But we're going to try bed rails on his current bed. If the bed rails don't work on his current bed, we'll get a standard hospital bed from the hospice company. We're hoping the bed rails make it harder for him to get up without us being aware of it--the cause of one of the falls--make it harder for him to try getting out on the wrong side of the bed--a fall risk we want to stop from happening--and make it impossible for him to roll out of bed--the cause of the other fall.
Dad's mental capacities are weakening, but they go up and down rather than staying the same. I was told when I got home from my vacation in Pennsylvania that Dad had missed me, but when I looked in to tell him I was back from being gone, he said, "Gone?" I assumed from that response that he hadn't really been aware that I'd been away, and that someone had probably asked him if he missed me, and he'd said yes.
But last night, Janie, who works for us several nights a week, told me he'd said to her, "Where's Alison? I miss her." To me, his awareness/lack of awareness in this example indicates his mental state in general.
While I was away and because of Dad falling, my sister Christie decided try giving Dad solid foods again--we'd stopped because of persistent digestion problems. He's enjoying the food, his digestion is better than it's been for some time--and he's putting on weight!
While I was gone, Dad enjoyed a letter and pictures from the Orams, our dear friends in England. Last Sunday, he enjoyed a short visit from his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig and Laurie's son Stephen--Stephen Marshall, actually.
We've appreciated the people in our Mormon ward (our congregation) who have come to help out with Dad recently, so I can get out to run an errand or to go visiting teaching (the women in each Mormon ward--each congregation--are assigned to visit other women on a monthly basis). Christie also called on neighbors (and ward members) to help get Dad up when he fell. When I thanked a ward member for coming to help, he told me it was an honor--he, along with many others in the ward, dearly love Dad.
In case you want to hear about my vacation, it was wonderful. Christine and Michael are enjoying living in State College, Pennsylvania. Michael's started school at Penn State, Christine's finishing her master's thesis, and Jeffrey is delighting everyone who meets him! (I be happy to describe my visit in much greater detail to anyone who's willing to listen.) I also got to visit a bit with Christie, her husband Duane, and their son Jonathan.
Thanks for reading--more on Sunday!
Since Oct. 11th, Dad's fallen twice and done some risky things like trying to get out of bed on the wrong side of the bed. Blessedly, he hasn't been seriously injured in his falls. But we're going to try bed rails on his current bed. If the bed rails don't work on his current bed, we'll get a standard hospital bed from the hospice company. We're hoping the bed rails make it harder for him to get up without us being aware of it--the cause of one of the falls--make it harder for him to try getting out on the wrong side of the bed--a fall risk we want to stop from happening--and make it impossible for him to roll out of bed--the cause of the other fall.
Dad's mental capacities are weakening, but they go up and down rather than staying the same. I was told when I got home from my vacation in Pennsylvania that Dad had missed me, but when I looked in to tell him I was back from being gone, he said, "Gone?" I assumed from that response that he hadn't really been aware that I'd been away, and that someone had probably asked him if he missed me, and he'd said yes.
But last night, Janie, who works for us several nights a week, told me he'd said to her, "Where's Alison? I miss her." To me, his awareness/lack of awareness in this example indicates his mental state in general.
While I was away and because of Dad falling, my sister Christie decided try giving Dad solid foods again--we'd stopped because of persistent digestion problems. He's enjoying the food, his digestion is better than it's been for some time--and he's putting on weight!
While I was gone, Dad enjoyed a letter and pictures from the Orams, our dear friends in England. Last Sunday, he enjoyed a short visit from his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig and Laurie's son Stephen--Stephen Marshall, actually.
We've appreciated the people in our Mormon ward (our congregation) who have come to help out with Dad recently, so I can get out to run an errand or to go visiting teaching (the women in each Mormon ward--each congregation--are assigned to visit other women on a monthly basis). Christie also called on neighbors (and ward members) to help get Dad up when he fell. When I thanked a ward member for coming to help, he told me it was an honor--he, along with many others in the ward, dearly love Dad.
In case you want to hear about my vacation, it was wonderful. Christine and Michael are enjoying living in State College, Pennsylvania. Michael's started school at Penn State, Christine's finishing her master's thesis, and Jeffrey is delighting everyone who meets him! (I be happy to describe my visit in much greater detail to anyone who's willing to listen.) I also got to visit a bit with Christie, her husband Duane, and their son Jonathan.
Thanks for reading--more on Sunday!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Week of Oct. 5-Oct. 11
Dad's declined mentally this past week, which has been hard to witness, but even in this decline Dad's loving nature and good humor shines through.
To understand this first story, you need a little background information: I'd told Dad earlier in the week that Christie was coming for a visit--my sister who lives in Pittsburgh--and I'd gotten a long-overdue haircut, making my hair look more like Christie's.
On Friday, after not seeing Dad for perhaps 24 hours at the most, I peeked in on him to say hi. He'd been asleep, but woke up and said, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you! You look wonderful!" He held out his arms for me to come give him a hug and a kiss. He obviously thought I was Christie!
I felt sad that he was losing the ability to tell his children apart, but I thought how wonderful it was to have a father whose response to one of his children was to be so happy to see them that he wanted to hug and kiss them!
Dad also didn't realize who I was when I had to speak to him on the phone this week. But again, he spoke to me graciously and sweetly.
Let me hasten to add that since that time, Dad's known who I was.
Here's Dad's joke of the week: on Tues., Dad was given some medication that made him hallucinate. He was agitated and telling me that he had some "concern about the Rasmuss boys"--did he mean the Rasmussen boys, a family that moved from our ward some years ago? It wasn't clear. I stroked his hair back from his forehead and said, "I think you're a little confused." He grinned at me, clearly lucid, and said, "Just a little confused?"--he can even find humor in a hallucination.
That's all for last week. I'm headed to Penn State this week to visit my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, so there may not be a post next Sunday.
I've appreciated hearing from many of you that you're enjoying this blog. We are grateful for your interest, for your love and concern.
To understand this first story, you need a little background information: I'd told Dad earlier in the week that Christie was coming for a visit--my sister who lives in Pittsburgh--and I'd gotten a long-overdue haircut, making my hair look more like Christie's.
On Friday, after not seeing Dad for perhaps 24 hours at the most, I peeked in on him to say hi. He'd been asleep, but woke up and said, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you! You look wonderful!" He held out his arms for me to come give him a hug and a kiss. He obviously thought I was Christie!
I felt sad that he was losing the ability to tell his children apart, but I thought how wonderful it was to have a father whose response to one of his children was to be so happy to see them that he wanted to hug and kiss them!
Dad also didn't realize who I was when I had to speak to him on the phone this week. But again, he spoke to me graciously and sweetly.
Let me hasten to add that since that time, Dad's known who I was.
Here's Dad's joke of the week: on Tues., Dad was given some medication that made him hallucinate. He was agitated and telling me that he had some "concern about the Rasmuss boys"--did he mean the Rasmussen boys, a family that moved from our ward some years ago? It wasn't clear. I stroked his hair back from his forehead and said, "I think you're a little confused." He grinned at me, clearly lucid, and said, "Just a little confused?"--he can even find humor in a hallucination.
That's all for last week. I'm headed to Penn State this week to visit my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, so there may not be a post next Sunday.
I've appreciated hearing from many of you that you're enjoying this blog. We are grateful for your interest, for your love and concern.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Dad's week, Oct. 4
Well, it's been another quiet week for Dad.
There are little indications that he's declining--I've found I need to give instructions to Dad one at a time. One day he didn't remember the routine with the hand sanitizer--even when I told him what we were doing.
On the other hand, the other day I accidentally squirted some hand sanitizer on his leg, apologized, and he wiped at it, saying, "leg sanitizer" and chuckled!
Today he and I listened to some of General Conference (the Mormon Church's semi-annual world conference). We both enjoyed Elder Jeffrey Holland's talk--he was Dad's beloved student and later his boss. (Ask any family member to tell you the story of Dad telling his Chinese students--who'd been taught about how awful American bosses were--that his boss would give him a hug. But you may have heard it yourself. It's one of his favorite stories!)
Dad told me this week that he was "hanging on"; I suggested that maybe he could let go. It sounded like he doesn't know how to do that. I'm praying he can learn.
Alison
There are little indications that he's declining--I've found I need to give instructions to Dad one at a time. One day he didn't remember the routine with the hand sanitizer--even when I told him what we were doing.
On the other hand, the other day I accidentally squirted some hand sanitizer on his leg, apologized, and he wiped at it, saying, "leg sanitizer" and chuckled!
Today he and I listened to some of General Conference (the Mormon Church's semi-annual world conference). We both enjoyed Elder Jeffrey Holland's talk--he was Dad's beloved student and later his boss. (Ask any family member to tell you the story of Dad telling his Chinese students--who'd been taught about how awful American bosses were--that his boss would give him a hug. But you may have heard it yourself. It's one of his favorite stories!)
Dad told me this week that he was "hanging on"; I suggested that maybe he could let go. It sounded like he doesn't know how to do that. I'm praying he can learn.
Alison
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
A short note
I was able to get Grandpa to eat and then helped him back into bed. After I had him positioned with pillows and such I started adding the layers of sheet and blankets. I noticed his hands were warm, but his fingertips were cold. So I sat beside him and lightly massaged his hands to get the circulation going in his fingers. He closed his eyes and relaxed with a peaceful smile. It was one of those times when I was grateful to be of use and provide a bit of comfort.
Maiken, Marshall's granddaughter
Maiken, Marshall's granddaughter
Monday, September 28, 2009
Dad's Week, Sept. 22nd-28th
Dad's had a week where he's gotten up more, looked at the paper, watched some TV, sat outside on the porch, and had some enjoyable visits and letters--and gained weight again!
Martha got Dad out on the porch again this last week for a little fresh air, sunshine, and a chance to look at the outside world.
Dad's enjoyed visits this week from his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig and his wife Pam, and from his home teaching companion, Les Flake. (Les now comes and visits Dad at least once a month now that Dad can't accompany him on his monthly visits other members of our ward--our LDS congregation.)
Dad received a "letter" this week from his great-granddaughter Ella, age 2 and 10 months. (She's Lucy's daughter Britta Schroeder's girl, for those of you who know the family.) Ella wrote the letters by herself, Britta reports, writing "Papa Daddy i love you Ella," and she drew a picture of a dog and a cat. Dad was tickled by the letter, chuckling as he read it.
Here's some of Dad's humor for the week--he finds himself counting: "forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight," but he never knows what he's counting. He catching himself doing it and laughs.
All of this may sound like Dad's improving; however, there are other things that show he's still slipping away. He's used gestures rather than speaking this week at times. He seems to "zone out" more than before. His feet (and hands too) are cold almost all the time--and this with his feet inside wool socks and down booties! (I saw Henry V at the Utah Shakespeare Festival this year, and Dad's cold feet remind me of Sir John Falstaff's cold feet as he's dying.)
Dad seemed to have some kind of seizure yesterday as I was helping him back to bed from being in the livingroom--he would have fallen if I hadn't held him up, and he was unresponsive to me as I tried to get him to sit down on the seat of his walker. Then he seemed to "wake up" and was able to walk into his bedroom without further problems--this same thing has happened once or twice before. When he was back on his bed, he couldn't suck through a straw (a new wrinkle)--not even when I tried to explain to him how to do it. But later in the evening, he was able to drink with a straw again.
Several people have commented on a picture we have displayed in the livingroom of Dad in his WWII Navy uniform. Bill Majeska, a member of our ward who is also a WWII veteran, had to keep after me for a year at least, but I finally got him information about Dad's service to be included in a WWII database with a picture to go with it. Here's the URL showing Dad's information and his handsome picture: ttp://www.wwiimemorial.com/registry/search/pframe.asp?HonoreeID=2227097&popcount=1&tcount=1. (There's an "it" in the description without a clear antecedent, but I haven't found time to get that changed!)
That's all for this week. I hope this blog helps you feel connected with what's going on with Marshall. Please feel free to ask questions, make comments, etc.
Martha got Dad out on the porch again this last week for a little fresh air, sunshine, and a chance to look at the outside world.
Dad's enjoyed visits this week from his nephew Laurie (Skip) Craig and his wife Pam, and from his home teaching companion, Les Flake. (Les now comes and visits Dad at least once a month now that Dad can't accompany him on his monthly visits other members of our ward--our LDS congregation.)
Dad received a "letter" this week from his great-granddaughter Ella, age 2 and 10 months. (She's Lucy's daughter Britta Schroeder's girl, for those of you who know the family.) Ella wrote the letters by herself, Britta reports, writing "Papa Daddy i love you Ella," and she drew a picture of a dog and a cat. Dad was tickled by the letter, chuckling as he read it.
Here's some of Dad's humor for the week--he finds himself counting: "forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight," but he never knows what he's counting. He catching himself doing it and laughs.
All of this may sound like Dad's improving; however, there are other things that show he's still slipping away. He's used gestures rather than speaking this week at times. He seems to "zone out" more than before. His feet (and hands too) are cold almost all the time--and this with his feet inside wool socks and down booties! (I saw Henry V at the Utah Shakespeare Festival this year, and Dad's cold feet remind me of Sir John Falstaff's cold feet as he's dying.)
Dad seemed to have some kind of seizure yesterday as I was helping him back to bed from being in the livingroom--he would have fallen if I hadn't held him up, and he was unresponsive to me as I tried to get him to sit down on the seat of his walker. Then he seemed to "wake up" and was able to walk into his bedroom without further problems--this same thing has happened once or twice before. When he was back on his bed, he couldn't suck through a straw (a new wrinkle)--not even when I tried to explain to him how to do it. But later in the evening, he was able to drink with a straw again.
Several people have commented on a picture we have displayed in the livingroom of Dad in his WWII Navy uniform. Bill Majeska, a member of our ward who is also a WWII veteran, had to keep after me for a year at least, but I finally got him information about Dad's service to be included in a WWII database with a picture to go with it. Here's the URL showing Dad's information and his handsome picture: ttp://www.wwiimemorial.com/registry/search/pframe.asp?HonoreeID=2227097&popcount=1&tcount=1. (There's an "it" in the description without a clear antecedent, but I haven't found time to get that changed!)
That's all for this week. I hope this blog helps you feel connected with what's going on with Marshall. Please feel free to ask questions, make comments, etc.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Update as of Sept. 20, 2009
Well, it's been a week without too many ups and downs.
Dad's weight actually went up a bit this week. Was he retaining water? Maybe, but his lungs were clear. Did he eat more this week? Perhaps. Was it the fluctuations of the moon? It seems entirely possible to me!
On Monday, Martha, Marshall's oldest daughter, got him out on the porch for a few minutes. He seemed to enjoy the lovely fall day, but when Martha asked me the next day if he'd suffered any ill effects, I said apparently not--Monday evening when I asked Dad if he'd gone outside, he told me no.
I've mentioned that Dad still jokes about things. He has very dry skin and despite all our efforts often feels itchy. One day this week, I said to him, "Dad, stop scratching that leg!" He replied, "But it's the only one that's itching," and laughed.
Dad's days and nights have gotten reversed, so he sleeps more in the day. We're working hard to get the problem turned around, giving him a sleeping pill--that so far seems to make him sleepy in the morning--and for the last couple of days (at the nurse's recommendation) we've been getting Dad up and into the livingroom for an hour or so. It's nice to see him up again, and I'll need to get the Perry Mason DVDs in order, so they're on hand and ready to slip in at a moment's notice.
One thing I failed to mention in my last post: we hope that if you pray for Dad, you'll pray (as we are praying) that he can pass away gently and easily here at home.
Thanks for your interest in Marshall, we'll look forward to reading your comments.
Alison
Dad's weight actually went up a bit this week. Was he retaining water? Maybe, but his lungs were clear. Did he eat more this week? Perhaps. Was it the fluctuations of the moon? It seems entirely possible to me!
On Monday, Martha, Marshall's oldest daughter, got him out on the porch for a few minutes. He seemed to enjoy the lovely fall day, but when Martha asked me the next day if he'd suffered any ill effects, I said apparently not--Monday evening when I asked Dad if he'd gone outside, he told me no.
I've mentioned that Dad still jokes about things. He has very dry skin and despite all our efforts often feels itchy. One day this week, I said to him, "Dad, stop scratching that leg!" He replied, "But it's the only one that's itching," and laughed.
Dad's days and nights have gotten reversed, so he sleeps more in the day. We're working hard to get the problem turned around, giving him a sleeping pill--that so far seems to make him sleepy in the morning--and for the last couple of days (at the nurse's recommendation) we've been getting Dad up and into the livingroom for an hour or so. It's nice to see him up again, and I'll need to get the Perry Mason DVDs in order, so they're on hand and ready to slip in at a moment's notice.
One thing I failed to mention in my last post: we hope that if you pray for Dad, you'll pray (as we are praying) that he can pass away gently and easily here at home.
Thanks for your interest in Marshall, we'll look forward to reading your comments.
Alison
Monday, September 14, 2009
Report on How Marshall's doing as of Sept. 14, 2009
I've wanted to start a blog for a long time, and I've finally done it--well, my nephew Jeff showed me how to do it!
Here's a report on how Marshall's doing:
Marshall was diagnosed with congestive heart failure in June, and he's been on hospice since mid-June. Since then, he's had a chance to see all his children and many of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
We're no longer forcing him to eat, so he's losing weight and muscle mass. (He now weighs 142.8 pounds.) He's usually lucid, though he seems to be kind of disconnecting from everyone. Sometimes now when I say something to him, he doesn't register it at all. More often he needs me to repeat what I said more slowly and simply so he can understand.
Jeff said that tonight when he talked to Grandpa, he just winked at him and crossed his fingers--to express how he's doing, something my friend Barbara, Dad's nurse, has explained is a common part of the dying process. The person becomes less verbal.
He's seldom in pain, is very glad he's at home, is unfailingly cheerful and grateful for what we do for him. He laughs at himself when he can't do things, and he still jokes about what's going on.
He spends practically all his time in bed these days, though occasionally he surprises us--last Friday when I suggested he get up, he agreed, got up, looked through the paper, and watched an episode of Perry Mason before going back to bed!
On another day, he seems to be on the verge of death, sleeping very deeply and not interested in eating.
He hallucinates sometimes, and Janie, a woman who does overnight care for him several times a week, says last week he told her he was talking to his wife. That's something new, and I'm assuming it means he's getting closer to dying.
Today he listened to a little of Pride and Prejudice on tape which he enjoys.
He enjoyed a visit last week from Anne Campbell Hagberg, who we consider a member of our family.
Although Marshall is gradually declining, every day is different, with unpredictable ups and downs.
We appreciate your love and concern for him, and hope this blog will help you feel connected to what's happening.
Thanks for reading!
Alison (Marshall's daughter)
Here's a report on how Marshall's doing:
Marshall was diagnosed with congestive heart failure in June, and he's been on hospice since mid-June. Since then, he's had a chance to see all his children and many of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
We're no longer forcing him to eat, so he's losing weight and muscle mass. (He now weighs 142.8 pounds.) He's usually lucid, though he seems to be kind of disconnecting from everyone. Sometimes now when I say something to him, he doesn't register it at all. More often he needs me to repeat what I said more slowly and simply so he can understand.
Jeff said that tonight when he talked to Grandpa, he just winked at him and crossed his fingers--to express how he's doing, something my friend Barbara, Dad's nurse, has explained is a common part of the dying process. The person becomes less verbal.
He's seldom in pain, is very glad he's at home, is unfailingly cheerful and grateful for what we do for him. He laughs at himself when he can't do things, and he still jokes about what's going on.
He spends practically all his time in bed these days, though occasionally he surprises us--last Friday when I suggested he get up, he agreed, got up, looked through the paper, and watched an episode of Perry Mason before going back to bed!
On another day, he seems to be on the verge of death, sleeping very deeply and not interested in eating.
He hallucinates sometimes, and Janie, a woman who does overnight care for him several times a week, says last week he told her he was talking to his wife. That's something new, and I'm assuming it means he's getting closer to dying.
Today he listened to a little of Pride and Prejudice on tape which he enjoys.
He enjoyed a visit last week from Anne Campbell Hagberg, who we consider a member of our family.
Although Marshall is gradually declining, every day is different, with unpredictable ups and downs.
We appreciate your love and concern for him, and hope this blog will help you feel connected to what's happening.
Thanks for reading!
Alison (Marshall's daughter)
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