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!