Hello, Everyone,
I'm sorry to be so late this with post. I wanted to get something up before I came to Utah, but it didn't happen, so I waited until I was able to see Dad yesterday to write my update.
I need to report a new decision about Dad's care; my sister Lucy sent me a brief description of her visit with Dad; and I have a report about my visit to him.
The family decided recently to put Dad back on hospice care. He's still at the same facility, but his care will be overseen by a hospice company, so he will have an aide from hospice who will visit him regularly to bathe him, wash his hair, and so on--I'm not sure if it's daily or three times weekly. My friend Barbara will again be his nurse, and we're very pleased to have her because she is so thorough, meticulous and caring. Dad's medications will be reduced to those that give him relief from pain, and since he no longer wants to eat, he will be offered food but not otherwise urged or cajoled into eating. Dad's not yet at the point where he's not eating at all, but he's eating a lot less. He may continue to decline, but we all know he's surprised us before by rallying when we thought he was close to dying. (I've probably mentioned before that Barbara has explained that starving is actually a gentle, natural way to die that does not cause pain and that allows the dying person the choice to stop eating.)
Here's Lucy's report on her recent visit to Dad with her husband Bob:
"[Dad] was hard to wake up and as always, seemed pleased to see us, but just kept drifting off. I held his hand, which he likes, and we didn't try and talk much, and left after about 15 minutes. We did talk to Angie, [the head nurse] who was there, and I'm glad to know that people who care about him are taking care of him."
Here's my report of my visit to Dad:
Yesterday I visited Dad, arriving just at dinner time. I asked an aide where Dad was, since he's in a new room now, and the aide pointed out that Dad was being wheeled down the hall. Dad's head was tilted off to the side, and he looked old and frail, but he greeted me, seemed clear about who I was, and I sat down across from him in the dining area.
I told him I'd been to see the new Springville Public Library--Dad was head of the library board for a number of years. He said, "They have a new one?" "Yes." "Is it in the same place?" I told him it was across the street from the old library where the fire station had been. I told him I'd seen one of the librarians and could only think of his last name. I said, "Is his first name John?" Dad said that sounded right. (I was amazed at this level of conversation from Dad after phone conversations where his responses are usually minimal.)
I told Dad I'd been reading Great Expectations by Dickens--I got just a minimal response. Then I told him that someone in my reading group had told us that in America when another chapter of Great Expectations was due to come in by ship, people would gather on the docks to wait for the ship, some even swimming out to the boat to ask, "What happened to Pip?" Dad chuckled at that story.
I asked him if my sister Christie had seen him yet, and he said no. I told him about Christie's son-in-law's mother passing away unexpectedly, and he was a aware and responsive as I told him briefly about that.
Then I sat for a few minutes just looking at Dad. He put his hand behind his ear, suggesting he couldn't hear what I was saying. I decided to move around the table to be closer to Dad and hold his hand. He was rubbing his hands and agreed they were cold. When I held his hands, he told me how warm my hands were.
As we were sitting together, a nurse came with Dad's meds and asked who I was; Dad said, "She's my . . . , and couldn't finish his sentence. I said, "I'm your daughter, Dad." He said, "I know, but I wanted to say which . . . ." I told the nurse that I was his fourth daughter, and Dad was pleased.
While I was sitting there, Dad said, "Tell me about you and yours." Just using their first names, I mentioned that Michael (my son-in-law) had passed his comprehensive exams for his doctorate and that Christine (my daughter) had survived a stressful semester.
I felt like he wasn't sure who I was talking about, so before I talked to him about my grandchildren, I said, "Do you remember I'm a grandma?" Dad said, "I can't believe it!" I showed Dad a couple of pictures of my granddaughter who he hasn't seen, and he really looked at them. I told him the same story I'd told him on the phone about Evelyn squatting down to play peek-a-boo with herself in a mirrored box at the library. I'm sure it was easier for him to understand with me gesturing to show the dimensions of the box, smiling as I described what she did, and so on, and this time he chuckled, without my having to prompting him overtly.
For my story about my grandson, I told him that recently I was sewing a pillowcase and Jeffrey sat down beside me and asked, "What are those three circles for?" I explained that one dial adjusted how tight the thread was, one changed the kind of stitch the machine made, and one changed how long the stitch was. He wanted to see where the light was and watch the mechanism inside that moves the needle up and down. I told Dad that Jeffrey stayed with me the entire time I was sewing, handing me pins and putting pins back in the pincushion. Dad seemed engaged by the story but didn't really respond until I prompted him by saying, "He's so smart." Dad agreed.
Dad told me it was wonderful to see me, and during our conversation, he was brought his supper. Clearly the word that he's not to be pressured to eat hasn't gotten around to everyone at the facility yet. The man Rueben whose wife is in the facility has been helping Dad to eat and got him to eat one forkful of food. When Dad wouldn't eat more, an aide suggested he might eat for me. (I'm sure they were puzzled that I didn't try to get Dad to eat.) When another aide saw that Dad wasn't eating, he brought him a protein shake, and when Dad wanted to go back to his room, the aide said he'd take Dad after he drank his shake. Dad drank about two-thirds of his drink and asked again to be taken to his room--and this time got his wish.
Although I wished the staff and Rueben weren't trying to still get Dad to eat, I didn't think it was wise for me as the daughter who'd just arrived from Pennsylvania to try to get them to stop feeding him. I was pleased to see how much he's loved. Rueben hugged Dad and told me how much he loved him, and one young aide came up and gave Dad a kiss on the cheek. She told me how much she cares about him too, and we actually talked about Shakespeare a little--she and I talking and Dad mostly listening.
When Dad got back into bed, he went right to sleep, and after a little while, he had a big smile on his face as he slept. He woke up for a minute or two as my friend Barbara checked his blood oxygen level, adjusted his concentrator, and rechecked his oxygen level. I told him I loved him as I was leaving and got a wink in return.
I felt amazed and blessed to be able to have such a conversation with Dad--and I'm glad I've got a record of it here, so I can read it and remember it after I go back to Pennsylvania. I hope to see Dad more before I go back and will write about those visits also.
Merry Christmas to everyone!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Update on Dad 12-6-11
Hi, Everyone,
I'm sorry to be even slower than usual this week, but glad to be here and glad to have some news to give you about my dad. My report this week comes from my sister Martha and from my conversation with Dad today.
Martha and her son Jeff visited Dad recently, and Dad was glad to see them. Martha thinks Dad knew who Jeff was, and she said Dad seemed to follow their talk about Jeff's family. Martha had also brought a Christmas letter from the Hoers, dear friends of Mom and Dad's from their China days. The letter talked about their two sons who left at the same time for Chinese-speaking missions, the one to Taiwan, the other to Australia, Mandarin-speaking. Dad seemed to know who the Hoers were and responded to the story about the sons and their missions.
Martha also mentioned that in the last meeting at the care facility about Dad, she was told he'd lost "another" 10 pounds - I'm not sure I knew about previous weight losses, but it's been clear to me from what family members have been saying that he's not eating much these days. Martha says he now weighs 135 lbs. She says the staff gives him a protein shake when he doesn't want to come to dinner.
I spoke to Dad today, and as usual, I had two stories about my grandchildren to tell him. The first was that Jeffrey and I have been collecting pine cones for Martha. Jeffrey's enthusiasm is delightful. He picks up a pine cone and says, "This is beaUUUtiful! Dad didn't have much reaction, maybe a bit of a chuckle.
Next I told him about Evelyn playing with a toy at the library that has a mirror on one side. She was squatting down and then standing back up--playing peek-a-boo with herself. I said it was very cute, and got again a slight response, but Dad told me, "You sound wonderful!"
I told him I'd heard from Elmo Flenniken recently (a friend he grew up with in Arkansas). Dad said, "Oh my!" I said he would be in the area for Christmas and wanted to visit. Dad said, "Oh, how nice!" I asked if Dad remembered the story Elmo told about taking his father's new car out on the highway (described in my last post), he said that he didn't remember it. Then I told him that Elmo had talked about little shows they used to put on, and Dad said, "Oh, yes!"
Dad told me again that I sounded wonderful--a stock phrase, but I thought perhaps it meant he was enjoying the conversation. I told him I'd be coming to see him in a few weeks. He responded, "Well, good." I told him, "Much love from me and all of us," and he replied, "Much love, but it isn't from all of us, just me"--much more than a stock response. Then Dad said, "It's wonderful to hear you."
I felt like he warmed up as we talked and that I need to plan enough things to say to get him to the point where he's talking more. It was nice to hear something other than stock phrases from him by the end and warming to be able to feel like both of us enjoyed our conversation.
Thanks for reading and I hope you're all having a lovely December!
Alison
I'm sorry to be even slower than usual this week, but glad to be here and glad to have some news to give you about my dad. My report this week comes from my sister Martha and from my conversation with Dad today.
Martha and her son Jeff visited Dad recently, and Dad was glad to see them. Martha thinks Dad knew who Jeff was, and she said Dad seemed to follow their talk about Jeff's family. Martha had also brought a Christmas letter from the Hoers, dear friends of Mom and Dad's from their China days. The letter talked about their two sons who left at the same time for Chinese-speaking missions, the one to Taiwan, the other to Australia, Mandarin-speaking. Dad seemed to know who the Hoers were and responded to the story about the sons and their missions.
Martha also mentioned that in the last meeting at the care facility about Dad, she was told he'd lost "another" 10 pounds - I'm not sure I knew about previous weight losses, but it's been clear to me from what family members have been saying that he's not eating much these days. Martha says he now weighs 135 lbs. She says the staff gives him a protein shake when he doesn't want to come to dinner.
I spoke to Dad today, and as usual, I had two stories about my grandchildren to tell him. The first was that Jeffrey and I have been collecting pine cones for Martha. Jeffrey's enthusiasm is delightful. He picks up a pine cone and says, "This is beaUUUtiful! Dad didn't have much reaction, maybe a bit of a chuckle.
Next I told him about Evelyn playing with a toy at the library that has a mirror on one side. She was squatting down and then standing back up--playing peek-a-boo with herself. I said it was very cute, and got again a slight response, but Dad told me, "You sound wonderful!"
I told him I'd heard from Elmo Flenniken recently (a friend he grew up with in Arkansas). Dad said, "Oh my!" I said he would be in the area for Christmas and wanted to visit. Dad said, "Oh, how nice!" I asked if Dad remembered the story Elmo told about taking his father's new car out on the highway (described in my last post), he said that he didn't remember it. Then I told him that Elmo had talked about little shows they used to put on, and Dad said, "Oh, yes!"
Dad told me again that I sounded wonderful--a stock phrase, but I thought perhaps it meant he was enjoying the conversation. I told him I'd be coming to see him in a few weeks. He responded, "Well, good." I told him, "Much love from me and all of us," and he replied, "Much love, but it isn't from all of us, just me"--much more than a stock response. Then Dad said, "It's wonderful to hear you."
I felt like he warmed up as we talked and that I need to plan enough things to say to get him to the point where he's talking more. It was nice to hear something other than stock phrases from him by the end and warming to be able to feel like both of us enjoyed our conversation.
Thanks for reading and I hope you're all having a lovely December!
Alison
Monday, November 21, 2011
Update on Dad 11-21-11
Hello, Everyone,
I'm even later than usual today, but I'm glad I was too busy to post until now--I have more information to pass along to you. My update today comes from some reminiscences of Dad's oldest living friend, Elmo (Tom) Flenniken, who has come up with some interesting stories from Dad's and Elmo's early years. My brother John also wrote an email about Dad, and I was able to speak to Dad tonight.
Here's what Elmo wrote:
A very close examination of [Elmo's personal history] fails to disclose any information relating to the youthful activities of one Marshall Craig, and his friend, Elmo (Tom) Flenniken, back in the ‘20s and ‘30s. I can, however, relate from cloudy memories, some of the activities of those two young, would-be hoodlums. (Don’t get alarmed. Neither of us had any hoodlum thoughts; maybe a little different.) I think I told you about the night we were (I mean, Marshall was) driving his dad’s brand new Dodge to a teen-age party, or dance, maybe, and came upon an auto wreck, away out in the country. The driver was bleeding badly and we decided he needed to be taken to the hospital, in town. So we loaded him into the back seat of Grandpa Craig’s new Dodge, and took him to town. Frankly, I do not recall whether we went to a party or not, but what happened the next morning was what I DO recall. Grandpa Craig found a lot of blood on the leather of the Dodge’s back seat. Marshall got a good talking to and had to clean out bloodstains all morning. His buddy was safely at home, 10 or 15 miles to the north, and blithely unaware of any sentences, as such. Until later.
Another item Marshall might vaguely recall, was the little acts and plays
he and I used to dream up and act out at our [church youth meetings]. That WAS elating, to say the least. I couldn‘t possibly
call up any specific instance, but I do remember the activities acted out
before Cora [Dad's mother], and Aunt Doll Craig’s kids, and the elation we
derived from our offerings.
Dad, by the way is apparently not eating much any more. They had a family "Thanksgiving" dinner last week that Elaine & I, Martha & Dave & [grandchildren:] Katy, and Lisa & Court went to (Lisa and Court got there late enough Dad had already asked to go back to bed). I was able to talk him into eating 8 or 10 bites of food at the table and then he just completely refused anything else. He drank a glass of punch (and drank from the cup without assistance or danger of spilling). He had very little to say.
At one point he said to me "You're good looking!" I said, "Well, I look like my dad." He put his hand to his heart and leaned back and perhaps muttered "Well!"--much like himself for a moment. I think that was about all he said other than giving thumbs up in response to a question or holding up his hands in front of his face and saying "No" to another bite. He apparently had severe belly cramps maybe 3 or 4 times during the course of the half hour or so we were there and he was with us.
Based on what John reported, I was concerned that Dad would not be up for a phone conversation with me, and I planned to keep it very short. But he sounded alert when I phoned. I told him his voice sounded good, and he said, "Yours sounds so good!" When I asked how he was feeling, he told me he was "fine."
I told him I would be at my sister Christie's for Thanksgiving, and he clicked his tongue but then said, "Good, good."
I told him I'd be in Utah in a couple of weeks, so I could see him. He said in a positive voice, "Oh, oh, oh."
Since he was being responsive, I told him a story about Jeffrey. When Jeffrey sees gymnastics on TV, he gets excited, puts his head down and raises one leg in the air, jumps around, spins, and so on. I told Dad that Christine was going to see about getting gymnastic lessons for Jeffrey in January. Dad responded, "It's something else--maybe I can check." I told him Christine would take care of it. (I'm not sure if he misunderstood what I was saying or misheard--my phone's a bit crackly these days or if he was just confused.)
Since we were still talking, I told him that Evelyn (who is eight months old) waves to people now and says, "Ha!"--her way of saying "hi." Dad said, "How old is she?" I repeated that she was eight months old, and I think he must have realized I'd just told him that because he said, "Her parents," so I told him their ages.
As I was getting ready to sign off, I said, "It's good to hear your voice." Dad couldn't understand what I was saying and asked me to repeat it several times. He finally understood and said, "Wonderful to hear your voice."
I told him I loved him and that Christine and the rest of the family send their love. He responded by saying, "Much love to you and yours!" (So he seemed to be aware I'd just told him of the rest of the family sending their love.)
We said goodbye to each other, and I hung up feeling greatly blessed that I'd been able to still have a conversation with Dad.
Sorry about the odd spacing--I'm too tired to fix it.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. (I'm thankful for my wonderful Dad!)
I'm even later than usual today, but I'm glad I was too busy to post until now--I have more information to pass along to you. My update today comes from some reminiscences of Dad's oldest living friend, Elmo (Tom) Flenniken, who has come up with some interesting stories from Dad's and Elmo's early years. My brother John also wrote an email about Dad, and I was able to speak to Dad tonight.
Here's what Elmo wrote:
A very close examination of [Elmo's personal history] fails to disclose any information relating to the youthful activities of one Marshall Craig, and his friend, Elmo (Tom) Flenniken, back in the ‘20s and ‘30s. I can, however, relate from cloudy memories, some of the activities of those two young, would-be hoodlums. (Don’t get alarmed. Neither of us had any hoodlum thoughts; maybe a little different.) I think I told you about the night we were (I mean, Marshall was) driving his dad’s brand new Dodge to a teen-age party, or dance, maybe, and came upon an auto wreck, away out in the country. The driver was bleeding badly and we decided he needed to be taken to the hospital, in town. So we loaded him into the back seat of Grandpa Craig’s new Dodge, and took him to town. Frankly, I do not recall whether we went to a party or not, but what happened the next morning was what I DO recall. Grandpa Craig found a lot of blood on the leather of the Dodge’s back seat. Marshall got a good talking to and had to clean out bloodstains all morning. His buddy was safely at home, 10 or 15 miles to the north, and blithely unaware of any sentences, as such. Until later.
John reported on a visit to Dad for the early Thanksgiving dinner they had at the care center:
Dad, by the way is apparently not eating much any more. They had a family "Thanksgiving" dinner last week that Elaine & I, Martha & Dave & [grandchildren:] Katy, and Lisa & Court went to (Lisa and Court got there late enough Dad had already asked to go back to bed). I was able to talk him into eating 8 or 10 bites of food at the table and then he just completely refused anything else. He drank a glass of punch (and drank from the cup without assistance or danger of spilling). He had very little to say.
At one point he said to me "You're good looking!" I said, "Well, I look like my dad." He put his hand to his heart and leaned back and perhaps muttered "Well!"--much like himself for a moment. I think that was about all he said other than giving thumbs up in response to a question or holding up his hands in front of his face and saying "No" to another bite. He apparently had severe belly cramps maybe 3 or 4 times during the course of the half hour or so we were there and he was with us.
Based on what John reported, I was concerned that Dad would not be up for a phone conversation with me, and I planned to keep it very short. But he sounded alert when I phoned. I told him his voice sounded good, and he said, "Yours sounds so good!" When I asked how he was feeling, he told me he was "fine."
I told him I would be at my sister Christie's for Thanksgiving, and he clicked his tongue but then said, "Good, good."
I told him I'd be in Utah in a couple of weeks, so I could see him. He said in a positive voice, "Oh, oh, oh."
Since he was being responsive, I told him a story about Jeffrey. When Jeffrey sees gymnastics on TV, he gets excited, puts his head down and raises one leg in the air, jumps around, spins, and so on. I told Dad that Christine was going to see about getting gymnastic lessons for Jeffrey in January. Dad responded, "It's something else--maybe I can check." I told him Christine would take care of it. (I'm not sure if he misunderstood what I was saying or misheard--my phone's a bit crackly these days or if he was just confused.)
Since we were still talking, I told him that Evelyn (who is eight months old) waves to people now and says, "Ha!"--her way of saying "hi." Dad said, "How old is she?" I repeated that she was eight months old, and I think he must have realized I'd just told him that because he said, "Her parents," so I told him their ages.
As I was getting ready to sign off, I said, "It's good to hear your voice." Dad couldn't understand what I was saying and asked me to repeat it several times. He finally understood and said, "Wonderful to hear your voice."
I told him I loved him and that Christine and the rest of the family send their love. He responded by saying, "Much love to you and yours!" (So he seemed to be aware I'd just told him of the rest of the family sending their love.)
We said goodbye to each other, and I hung up feeling greatly blessed that I'd been able to still have a conversation with Dad.
Sorry about the odd spacing--I'm too tired to fix it.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. (I'm thankful for my wonderful Dad!)
Monday, November 7, 2011
Update on Dad 11-7-11
Hello, Everyone,
I couldn't get through to the nursing home last night, so I waited until today to call Dad. My update comes from my brother John, from my sister Martha, and from my conversation with my dad today.
John wrote about their visit Oct. 27:
Dad was very sleepy when we arrived (7:30 or so). His dinner was on a tray table, but he clearly hadn't touched it (and it didn't look like anyone had tried to feed him any of it). We got him to eat a dozen bites, maybe and then he said "No more. No more." He also drank a small glass of milk and a couple of swallows of juice/punch--not sure what it was. At any rate, a few calories. I'm sure the food would have tasted better earlier when it was hot, but he was all burpy and full-seeming in any case. He did not say he was uncomfortable or anything, but he didn't look at all chipper. He may have already been given a sleeping pill, for all we knew.
As far as conversation went, he wasn't very with it. We told him about Michael and Patsy's baby and explained that he now had a great-grandchild [with the last name of] Craig--but it didn't make much of an impression. It was not clear if he knew who we were talking about or knew who we were. At the point when we decided to leave and told him we loved him, he responded in kind; that was as much as he'd said all evening. He waved his hand and clicked his tongue and winked at Elaine--typical non-verbal signals from him.
On the other hand, Elaine said Martha had reported to her that she'd had a really good visit just a few days before. So, the up and down pattern continues.
Thanks for reading!
I couldn't get through to the nursing home last night, so I waited until today to call Dad. My update comes from my brother John, from my sister Martha, and from my conversation with my dad today.
John wrote about their visit Oct. 27:
Dad was very sleepy when we arrived (7:30 or so). His dinner was on a tray table, but he clearly hadn't touched it (and it didn't look like anyone had tried to feed him any of it). We got him to eat a dozen bites, maybe and then he said "No more. No more." He also drank a small glass of milk and a couple of swallows of juice/punch--not sure what it was. At any rate, a few calories. I'm sure the food would have tasted better earlier when it was hot, but he was all burpy and full-seeming in any case. He did not say he was uncomfortable or anything, but he didn't look at all chipper. He may have already been given a sleeping pill, for all we knew.
As far as conversation went, he wasn't very with it. We told him about Michael and Patsy's baby and explained that he now had a great-grandchild [with the last name of] Craig--but it didn't make much of an impression. It was not clear if he knew who we were talking about or knew who we were. At the point when we decided to leave and told him we loved him, he responded in kind; that was as much as he'd said all evening. He waved his hand and clicked his tongue and winked at Elaine--typical non-verbal signals from him.
On the other hand, Elaine said Martha had reported to her that she'd had a really good visit just a few days before. So, the up and down pattern continues.
Martha told me that on one of her recent visits--maybe the same one Elaine told John about--he was more talkative than usual. On other visits, he's been tired and less talkative. Once recently they visited when he was at lunch. He ate about 3 bites, but then said he had to leave. Once they got him into bed, he was better.
Martha had also heard from Dad's only living brother, Kay, that Dad's youngest sister, Ila, died. (Ila's husband also recently passed away.) Martha thought Dad understood when she told him about Ila's death, but she doubts that he'll remember about it.
When I spoke to Dad today, his voice was not as clear as usual; in fact, sometimes I couldn't tell what he was saying. He said he was doing "amazingly well"--what a cheerful man!
I told him how my eight-month-old granddaughter likes to wave at people now. On Sunday, she was standing in my lap and saw the chorister leading the congregation in a hymn, so she waved back at him. I chuckled and thought Dad wasn't going to respond at all, but be finally chuckled too.
I was disappointed that he didn't remember the little song we used to sing about getting dressed--"I'm Dressing Myself." I tried to tell him about singing it to Jeffrey, and Jeffrey now sings it if I help him get started, "Sockie, sock sock, Dee, da, dee, dee, Peek-a, peek-a, peek-a-boo, That's no way to go to [fill in the blank--"preschool," "church," etc.]."
I didn't try to tell Dad about this, but I also thought of him as I was washing my grandson's hair this week--something he hates. I remembered that Dad used to tell us "Little Bear" stories that he would make up as he washed our hair. I tried to tell Jeffrey one that I vaguely remembered--some of it came back to me--the little bear doesn't want to eat supper, so he runs away up a tree, but finally when it's dark, he comes down and says, "Will somebody please feed me my supper?" That's how I told it, but now I'm wondering if it was about getting his hair washed. Anyway, fun memories and a useful device to keep a squirmy toddler still while I washed his hair!
I told Dad I loved him, and after a paused, he responded, saying he loved me and how good it was to hear from me. I told him I'd come to visit next month, and he at first didn't understand and then said that would be nice. I hope for my sake he'll still around for a visit at Christmas time!
That's all for this week.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Update on Dad 10-24-11
Hi, All,
Sorry to be slow getting this up this week--another busy Sunday!
I wasn't able to speak with Dad yesterday, so my update today comes from Elouise Bell, Dad's student at the Y and then his colleague (and always his dear friend):
I visited Marshall on Sunday, October 9, just after he had finished the noon meal. The aides were getting him into bed when I arrived. After they left, I went up to him and was beginning to talk, when a look of pain came over his face, he put his hand on his stomach or abdomen, and said, "I've got something wrong here." I asked him if I should call someone. "I don't know who you'd call," he replied. I went around the corner and got an aide, who was very kind and gentle to Marshall, saying, "How are you feeling, Marshall?" "Oh, about the same as usual." "Do you want something for pain--Tylenol or something?" "No, I don't think so." He seemed no longer in pain, and I would guess the problem had been gas. There seemed no further discomfort during my visit.
He looked better than I had anticipated. I had expected him to be very thin, and had thought his face might be drawn and gray. But he seemed sturdier than I'd thought; his face had good color and did not seem drawn; his hands were warm, and he focused on me the entire time, very much "there."
I told him who I was and reminded him of the antics Professor Jack McKendrick and I had got up to in the old days. I said, "You remember Jack, of course." (Not asking but simply stating.) He grinned broadly and said, "Oh yes!" Then I spoke of our hugely inept recorder group that he and Ruth were part of and how our
"practices" were mostly times of listening to Homer Wakefield's stories and trying, over a couple of years, to play the simple tune, "All In A Garden Green." He laughed heartily and said, "Wonderful memories!"
I told other stories--of his falling asleep in the high science lab counter listening to one of us read a paper he'd assigned. He had sat there, legs crossed in lotus position, or close to it, listening, and finally nodding off. When Joan finished reading, he was still asleep. We would not disturb him, either by getting up and leaving or by saying anything to him. So we sat quietly. After about five or ten minutes, he woke, smiled at us, and said, "I wasn't sleeping, just contemplating Joan's paper." Marshall chuckled at that.
I told him how much he had taught me about being a better teacher, not with general advice but by specific example. I told him he had taught me to listen after I had asked a student a question, and I worked at that. Later, students would specifically comment on how they appreciated being listened to so thoughtfully.
I also told him that you and I emailed, and that I had enjoyed the pictures of Jeffrey and Evelyn and kept them on the old pump organ next to the long-ago picture of him.
When I was almost ready to go (I had been holding one or both of his hands throughout), I said I wanted to recite a bit of a sonnet, since he had so generously shared his love and understanding of Shakespeare with us. So I began,
"That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold--"
And then I just went blank, could not remember the next line of this famous poem which I've taught dozens of times. But there was no pause. As soon as Marshall saw the frown on my face which said I couldn't remember the line, he immediately finished in a clear, strong voice, " Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang."
I was flabbergasted and delighted. "Marshall! You remembered that better than I did!" He grinned a sly, pleased smile.
When I got ready to leave (I'd been there perhaps 10 or 15 minutes at most), I kissed him a time or two and then said slowly, "When you see Ruth," then paused and repeated it slowly, "When you see Ruth," and his eyes widened and he seemed to wonder where I might be going with this, "Please tell her Elouise Bell says thanks." Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he gave a small nod. I sincerely believe he knew exactly what I meant.
(He and your mother had been very kind and helpful to me, especially my first two years as a graduate student, newly converted, not knowing many people--they invited me to a holiday dinner and to many evenings at their home and generally made a lonely young student feel there was a place for her at BYU.)
After my delight in his reciting the line from Sonnet 73, what made me happiest was to see the look in his eyes. There seemed to be no confusion, no vagueness, distance, or fatigue--just understanding and interest and warmth. In his eyes I saw exactly the same person I had known since 1957, undiminished as a person. His mind may not have recalled my name or even my face, but his soul absolutely knew that we had been colleagues and friends for a long time and that I cherished him and all he represented.
It was a great privilege and blessing for me to have those minutes with him.
(Thank you, Elouise, for visiting and for writing so eloquently about your visit! I cried when I read about him remembering the line from sonnet 73--his favorite!)
As always, thanks for reading, everyone!
Sorry to be slow getting this up this week--another busy Sunday!
I wasn't able to speak with Dad yesterday, so my update today comes from Elouise Bell, Dad's student at the Y and then his colleague (and always his dear friend):
I visited Marshall on Sunday, October 9, just after he had finished the noon meal. The aides were getting him into bed when I arrived. After they left, I went up to him and was beginning to talk, when a look of pain came over his face, he put his hand on his stomach or abdomen, and said, "I've got something wrong here." I asked him if I should call someone. "I don't know who you'd call," he replied. I went around the corner and got an aide, who was very kind and gentle to Marshall, saying, "How are you feeling, Marshall?" "Oh, about the same as usual." "Do you want something for pain--Tylenol or something?" "No, I don't think so." He seemed no longer in pain, and I would guess the problem had been gas. There seemed no further discomfort during my visit.
He looked better than I had anticipated. I had expected him to be very thin, and had thought his face might be drawn and gray. But he seemed sturdier than I'd thought; his face had good color and did not seem drawn; his hands were warm, and he focused on me the entire time, very much "there."
I told him who I was and reminded him of the antics Professor Jack McKendrick and I had got up to in the old days. I said, "You remember Jack, of course." (Not asking but simply stating.) He grinned broadly and said, "Oh yes!" Then I spoke of our hugely inept recorder group that he and Ruth were part of and how our
"practices" were mostly times of listening to Homer Wakefield's stories and trying, over a couple of years, to play the simple tune, "All In A Garden Green." He laughed heartily and said, "Wonderful memories!"
I told other stories--of his falling asleep in the high science lab counter listening to one of us read a paper he'd assigned. He had sat there, legs crossed in lotus position, or close to it, listening, and finally nodding off. When Joan finished reading, he was still asleep. We would not disturb him, either by getting up and leaving or by saying anything to him. So we sat quietly. After about five or ten minutes, he woke, smiled at us, and said, "I wasn't sleeping, just contemplating Joan's paper." Marshall chuckled at that.
I told him how much he had taught me about being a better teacher, not with general advice but by specific example. I told him he had taught me to listen after I had asked a student a question, and I worked at that. Later, students would specifically comment on how they appreciated being listened to so thoughtfully.
I also told him that you and I emailed, and that I had enjoyed the pictures of Jeffrey and Evelyn and kept them on the old pump organ next to the long-ago picture of him.
When I was almost ready to go (I had been holding one or both of his hands throughout), I said I wanted to recite a bit of a sonnet, since he had so generously shared his love and understanding of Shakespeare with us. So I began,
"That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold--"
And then I just went blank, could not remember the next line of this famous poem which I've taught dozens of times. But there was no pause. As soon as Marshall saw the frown on my face which said I couldn't remember the line, he immediately finished in a clear, strong voice, " Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang."
I was flabbergasted and delighted. "Marshall! You remembered that better than I did!" He grinned a sly, pleased smile.
When I got ready to leave (I'd been there perhaps 10 or 15 minutes at most), I kissed him a time or two and then said slowly, "When you see Ruth," then paused and repeated it slowly, "When you see Ruth," and his eyes widened and he seemed to wonder where I might be going with this, "Please tell her Elouise Bell says thanks." Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he gave a small nod. I sincerely believe he knew exactly what I meant.
(He and your mother had been very kind and helpful to me, especially my first two years as a graduate student, newly converted, not knowing many people--they invited me to a holiday dinner and to many evenings at their home and generally made a lonely young student feel there was a place for her at BYU.)
After my delight in his reciting the line from Sonnet 73, what made me happiest was to see the look in his eyes. There seemed to be no confusion, no vagueness, distance, or fatigue--just understanding and interest and warmth. In his eyes I saw exactly the same person I had known since 1957, undiminished as a person. His mind may not have recalled my name or even my face, but his soul absolutely knew that we had been colleagues and friends for a long time and that I cherished him and all he represented.
It was a great privilege and blessing for me to have those minutes with him.
(Thank you, Elouise, for visiting and for writing so eloquently about your visit! I cried when I read about him remembering the line from sonnet 73--his favorite!)
As always, thanks for reading, everyone!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Update on Dad 10-10-11
Hi, Everybody,
Sorry I didn't get this posted yesterday--it just got too late in the evening for me.
My report today comes from my brother-in-law Bob, from my sister Christie, and from my conversation with Dad last night.
Bob told me that when he and Lucy visited recently, Dad was aware that they hadn't visited for a while. Lucy was surprised that he was tracking time that well. Dad really appreciated their visit but didn't want them to stay long because he was having some abdominal cramping and was in a lot of pain. In fact, Bob said he had a pain medication patch that he was wearing.
Christie just got home from a trip to Utah and said she was able to visit Dad twice while she was there. She told me she always says when she sees him, "It's your daughter, Christie, and I've come to see you from Pennsylvania." She thinks that helps him know who she is and that she's come from far away to see him.
She reported that he seemed more responsive this trip than when she'd last been to Utah. She and Elaine visited Dad, and he was also in pain then and only wanting to lie on one side. Christie thinks maybe it's gas. He was in enough pain that they asked the nurse to come in. The nurse was really sweet with Dad and helpful. She also told them that she's giving him pain meds routinely at night.
Christie visited Dad again with her daughter Maggie and son-in-law Colt. She was glad to get to see him two times and said he was glad to be visited. She thought he paid attention to the conversations and understood at least parts of them.
Christie did note, however, that Martha and Dave visited Dad the day after one of her visits and found Dad less responsive. So it depends on the day--as we've seen all along.
I phoned Dad last night, and realized that I hadn't really thought of what stories I was going to tell him, so I quickly thought of two as the staff members got him on the phone for me.
I told him that Jeffrey doesn't want to do anything you want him to do. I made Jeffrey an apron with some Winnie-the-Pooh fabric I'd bought in January. He likes the fabric and he was very interested in the process of making the apron, but he wouldn't put it on after I made it. (No response.) I told Dad that Christine was able to get him to put it on by being very casual about it, but when I came into the room and made much of him, he wanted it off! (Dad chuckled after I did.) Dad said his usual, "You sound wonderful!"
I then reminded him that my brother Alan and his wife, Janice, were called to a temple mission in Brazil but don't have their visas yet, so they're serving at the Washington, DC, temple until they get their visas. So when I went to the DC temple on Saturday, I got to see them both and they both looked really happy. He said, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
Since those two stories took almost no time, I told him that Evelyn was vocalizing more and more. (No response.) I said, "That's a great thing for a grandchild to be doing"--giving him a cue. He said, "Oh, yes."
My phone's been dropping calls, and dropped our call. When I called back--within the minute--and told Dad who I was, he said, "Uh-huh," seeming to understand that we had just been talking and told me again, "You sound wonderful!"
As I was wrapping things up, I said, "It's good to talk to you." He replied, "It's good to talk to you too!" I told him that I love him, and he said, "Uh, uh, love you too!"--as if he had to struggle a bit to get the sentence out.
I felt like he was a bit more responsive than he's been recently, and I also felt he was "warming up," getting into a more talkative mode, and if I'd been able to come up with things to talk about for longer, he would have been even more responsive. I did feel his warmth and love--the best things about talking to him!
Well, that's all for today. Thanks for reading and for letting me know you're out there!
Sorry I didn't get this posted yesterday--it just got too late in the evening for me.
My report today comes from my brother-in-law Bob, from my sister Christie, and from my conversation with Dad last night.
Bob told me that when he and Lucy visited recently, Dad was aware that they hadn't visited for a while. Lucy was surprised that he was tracking time that well. Dad really appreciated their visit but didn't want them to stay long because he was having some abdominal cramping and was in a lot of pain. In fact, Bob said he had a pain medication patch that he was wearing.
Christie just got home from a trip to Utah and said she was able to visit Dad twice while she was there. She told me she always says when she sees him, "It's your daughter, Christie, and I've come to see you from Pennsylvania." She thinks that helps him know who she is and that she's come from far away to see him.
She reported that he seemed more responsive this trip than when she'd last been to Utah. She and Elaine visited Dad, and he was also in pain then and only wanting to lie on one side. Christie thinks maybe it's gas. He was in enough pain that they asked the nurse to come in. The nurse was really sweet with Dad and helpful. She also told them that she's giving him pain meds routinely at night.
Christie visited Dad again with her daughter Maggie and son-in-law Colt. She was glad to get to see him two times and said he was glad to be visited. She thought he paid attention to the conversations and understood at least parts of them.
Christie did note, however, that Martha and Dave visited Dad the day after one of her visits and found Dad less responsive. So it depends on the day--as we've seen all along.
I phoned Dad last night, and realized that I hadn't really thought of what stories I was going to tell him, so I quickly thought of two as the staff members got him on the phone for me.
I told him that Jeffrey doesn't want to do anything you want him to do. I made Jeffrey an apron with some Winnie-the-Pooh fabric I'd bought in January. He likes the fabric and he was very interested in the process of making the apron, but he wouldn't put it on after I made it. (No response.) I told Dad that Christine was able to get him to put it on by being very casual about it, but when I came into the room and made much of him, he wanted it off! (Dad chuckled after I did.) Dad said his usual, "You sound wonderful!"
I then reminded him that my brother Alan and his wife, Janice, were called to a temple mission in Brazil but don't have their visas yet, so they're serving at the Washington, DC, temple until they get their visas. So when I went to the DC temple on Saturday, I got to see them both and they both looked really happy. He said, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
Since those two stories took almost no time, I told him that Evelyn was vocalizing more and more. (No response.) I said, "That's a great thing for a grandchild to be doing"--giving him a cue. He said, "Oh, yes."
My phone's been dropping calls, and dropped our call. When I called back--within the minute--and told Dad who I was, he said, "Uh-huh," seeming to understand that we had just been talking and told me again, "You sound wonderful!"
As I was wrapping things up, I said, "It's good to talk to you." He replied, "It's good to talk to you too!" I told him that I love him, and he said, "Uh, uh, love you too!"--as if he had to struggle a bit to get the sentence out.
I felt like he was a bit more responsive than he's been recently, and I also felt he was "warming up," getting into a more talkative mode, and if I'd been able to come up with things to talk about for longer, he would have been even more responsive. I did feel his warmth and love--the best things about talking to him!
Well, that's all for today. Thanks for reading and for letting me know you're out there!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Update on Dad 9-25-11
Hey, Everybody,
The last two weeks have flown by and it's time for another report on Dad--a short one tonight. My information tonight comes from my sister Martha and from my conversation with Dad tonight.
Martha reported to me that Dad's been changed to a different room, so those of you who visit him, ask someone at the nurse's station where his new room is. Martha also told me that when she and Dave visited Dad and he was so sleepy, it was the night after they'd moved him to his new room, so he may have been extra sleepy because of that.
I had an interesting experience this week--I imagined telling Dad about my first time hosting my grandson's co-op preschool. My daughter, Christine, had found lots of possible activities online, and we decided to put shaving cream on cookie sheets and have the kids try writing letters in the shaving cream. I got everyone seated with a cookie sheet in front of them and a paper towel beside them, and I explained what they were to do and sprayed shaving cream on each cookie sheet. It turned out to be very sticky. As Jeffrey explained it, "My fingers got so big!"--as the shaving cream stuck to them. So they all had a great time playing in the shaving cream, but they didn't really write letters in it, and one paper towel was not nearly enough to clean them up!
I imagined Dad laughing as I told the story--as he would have done in the past. Only today when I was thinking about calling him did I realize I'd just imagined telling him. In my mind we enjoyed the story together so much!
I decided not to tell Dad that story tonight just because it's a bit complicated--but now I wish I had. Instead, I told him that my six-month-old granddaughter started crawling this week. (No reaction.) I said that her parents both have cell phone with cameras, so they were able to whip out their phones and take a video of her first time crawling. "Oh, my!"
I talked a bit more about her crawling without much more response.
Then I told him that Jeffrey and I played ball tonight, and Jeffrey thinks it's hilarious when the ball doesn't bounce to the other person. (No response.) I said that was good because neither of us has very good aim. Dad said, "Well, good for him--and good for you!"
I told Dad that I remembered that Christie was coming for a visit. He hadn't heard who I said and asked me to repeat the name. I did and said, "That will be nice for you, won't it?" Oh, yes."
Then I told him I just wanted to say hi and tell him I love him, and as I started to say that Christine and Michael sent their love, he talked over me, saying, "Well, you know I love you!"
I felt that again I got less response from Dad than in the past but that he did warm up as the conversation went along and that he did show signs of being attentive and aware of at least some of what I was saying. I'm glad it still feels like we're communicating.
Thanks for reading!
The last two weeks have flown by and it's time for another report on Dad--a short one tonight. My information tonight comes from my sister Martha and from my conversation with Dad tonight.
Martha reported to me that Dad's been changed to a different room, so those of you who visit him, ask someone at the nurse's station where his new room is. Martha also told me that when she and Dave visited Dad and he was so sleepy, it was the night after they'd moved him to his new room, so he may have been extra sleepy because of that.
I had an interesting experience this week--I imagined telling Dad about my first time hosting my grandson's co-op preschool. My daughter, Christine, had found lots of possible activities online, and we decided to put shaving cream on cookie sheets and have the kids try writing letters in the shaving cream. I got everyone seated with a cookie sheet in front of them and a paper towel beside them, and I explained what they were to do and sprayed shaving cream on each cookie sheet. It turned out to be very sticky. As Jeffrey explained it, "My fingers got so big!"--as the shaving cream stuck to them. So they all had a great time playing in the shaving cream, but they didn't really write letters in it, and one paper towel was not nearly enough to clean them up!
I imagined Dad laughing as I told the story--as he would have done in the past. Only today when I was thinking about calling him did I realize I'd just imagined telling him. In my mind we enjoyed the story together so much!
I decided not to tell Dad that story tonight just because it's a bit complicated--but now I wish I had. Instead, I told him that my six-month-old granddaughter started crawling this week. (No reaction.) I said that her parents both have cell phone with cameras, so they were able to whip out their phones and take a video of her first time crawling. "Oh, my!"
I talked a bit more about her crawling without much more response.
Then I told him that Jeffrey and I played ball tonight, and Jeffrey thinks it's hilarious when the ball doesn't bounce to the other person. (No response.) I said that was good because neither of us has very good aim. Dad said, "Well, good for him--and good for you!"
I told Dad that I remembered that Christie was coming for a visit. He hadn't heard who I said and asked me to repeat the name. I did and said, "That will be nice for you, won't it?" Oh, yes."
Then I told him I just wanted to say hi and tell him I love him, and as I started to say that Christine and Michael sent their love, he talked over me, saying, "Well, you know I love you!"
I felt that again I got less response from Dad than in the past but that he did warm up as the conversation went along and that he did show signs of being attentive and aware of at least some of what I was saying. I'm glad it still feels like we're communicating.
Thanks for reading!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Update on Dad 9-12-11
Hello, Everyone,
Sorry I didn't get the update written yesterday, but I had nothing to write! I tried twice to phone Dad, but the phone at the care center just rang and rang, never going to voicemail and never being answered. This morning when I called, they told me they're having problems with their phones and are getting them checked out.
My report today comes from my brother John and from my sister Lucy as well as from my conversation with Dad this morning at the care facility.
John and my older brother, Alan, visited Dad together before Alan went into the Missionary Training Center. Dad had just woken up, and he said he'd gone to school with John. John's not sure that Dad would have been so confused if he'd been awake for longer. (I find it interesting that Dad's mind supplied an explanation of who this person was that he recognized as someone he knew and cared about.)
John and Lucy both told me a little about a visit Martha and Dave recently had with Dad where he was extremely sleepy, falling back to sleep constantly. Martha said, "Would you rather we go now and come back another time?" Dad said, "No, no," but he really couldn't keep himself awake.
Martha also told John and Lucy that Dad's not getting up for breakfast now, so they bring him a breakfast "shake" instead. (Lucy commented on how slowly Dad's declining--it's true and hard to deal with. On the other hand, I just read Joan Didion's book The Year of Magical Thinking about the year following her husband's sudden death in his fifties from a massive heart attack, and I'm grateful we still have Dad with us!)
When I spoke to Dad this morning, I was also aware of that very slow decline but also felt that Dad kind of "warmed up" in terms of being able to talk and interact as our conversation went on.
I told him a story about Jeffrey, and I probably needed to preface it with a reminder that Jeffrey's my grandson and three years old now. Jeffrey and I were doing something together--maybe playing with his wooden train set. Something worked out just right, and Jeffrey asked me why. I said, "It's serendipitous." Then, thinking Jeffrey would mangle the word in some charming way, I said, "Can you say 'serendipitous'?" He said, "What's 'serendipitous'?"--pronouncing it perfectly!
Dad had no response. I thought maybe the phone had gone dead because there was just silence.
I mentioned that I'd found out from my nephew David Sargent that his parents, Martha and Dave, will be in France (where David lives with his family) for his birthday this month. I said, "That will be nice for them, won't it?" and Dad said, "Oh, yes."
I told him that my granddaughter Evelyn is now six months old, so we gave her some solid food. I said she pulled a face and wasn't sure about the food. I chuckled, then Dad chuckled, taking his cue from me. Dad then said, "You sound wonderful!"--one of his stock phrases, but a contribution to the conversation from him.
Then since our conversation felt so short, I told him his dear friend and colleague Elouise Bell was planning to visit him next month. (No response.) "It'll be nice for you to see her, won't it?" I said. He responded, "Oh, yes!"
I told him we'd had flooding in our basement recently. He said "Oh my goodness!"
As I was starting to wrap things up, he said, "Surely, it's very, very good to have someone . . . " and couldn't finish the thought. I finally said, "to have me call?" "Oh, yes."
I said, "Much love to you." He said, "Much love to you!" I said, "Talk to you again"; he said, "Oh, wonderful!" And we hung up.
I'm grateful for Dad's loving, gracious spirit that I can still feel even in our halting conversations!
Thanks for reading.
Sorry I didn't get the update written yesterday, but I had nothing to write! I tried twice to phone Dad, but the phone at the care center just rang and rang, never going to voicemail and never being answered. This morning when I called, they told me they're having problems with their phones and are getting them checked out.
My report today comes from my brother John and from my sister Lucy as well as from my conversation with Dad this morning at the care facility.
John and my older brother, Alan, visited Dad together before Alan went into the Missionary Training Center. Dad had just woken up, and he said he'd gone to school with John. John's not sure that Dad would have been so confused if he'd been awake for longer. (I find it interesting that Dad's mind supplied an explanation of who this person was that he recognized as someone he knew and cared about.)
John and Lucy both told me a little about a visit Martha and Dave recently had with Dad where he was extremely sleepy, falling back to sleep constantly. Martha said, "Would you rather we go now and come back another time?" Dad said, "No, no," but he really couldn't keep himself awake.
Martha also told John and Lucy that Dad's not getting up for breakfast now, so they bring him a breakfast "shake" instead. (Lucy commented on how slowly Dad's declining--it's true and hard to deal with. On the other hand, I just read Joan Didion's book The Year of Magical Thinking about the year following her husband's sudden death in his fifties from a massive heart attack, and I'm grateful we still have Dad with us!)
When I spoke to Dad this morning, I was also aware of that very slow decline but also felt that Dad kind of "warmed up" in terms of being able to talk and interact as our conversation went on.
I told him a story about Jeffrey, and I probably needed to preface it with a reminder that Jeffrey's my grandson and three years old now. Jeffrey and I were doing something together--maybe playing with his wooden train set. Something worked out just right, and Jeffrey asked me why. I said, "It's serendipitous." Then, thinking Jeffrey would mangle the word in some charming way, I said, "Can you say 'serendipitous'?" He said, "What's 'serendipitous'?"--pronouncing it perfectly!
Dad had no response. I thought maybe the phone had gone dead because there was just silence.
I mentioned that I'd found out from my nephew David Sargent that his parents, Martha and Dave, will be in France (where David lives with his family) for his birthday this month. I said, "That will be nice for them, won't it?" and Dad said, "Oh, yes."
I told him that my granddaughter Evelyn is now six months old, so we gave her some solid food. I said she pulled a face and wasn't sure about the food. I chuckled, then Dad chuckled, taking his cue from me. Dad then said, "You sound wonderful!"--one of his stock phrases, but a contribution to the conversation from him.
Then since our conversation felt so short, I told him his dear friend and colleague Elouise Bell was planning to visit him next month. (No response.) "It'll be nice for you to see her, won't it?" I said. He responded, "Oh, yes!"
I told him we'd had flooding in our basement recently. He said "Oh my goodness!"
As I was starting to wrap things up, he said, "Surely, it's very, very good to have someone . . . " and couldn't finish the thought. I finally said, "to have me call?" "Oh, yes."
I said, "Much love to you." He said, "Much love to you!" I said, "Talk to you again"; he said, "Oh, wonderful!" And we hung up.
I'm grateful for Dad's loving, gracious spirit that I can still feel even in our halting conversations!
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Update on Dad 8-31-11
Sorry to be late this week. It's the beginning of a busy semester for the family!
I have two short reports on Dad. One from my brother Alan who went to see Dad before he and his wife went into the Missionary Training Center (MTC) on Aug. 22. The other report is from our friend Sally Perry who visited Utah in July and has written a report about seeing Dad then. (I wasn't able to speak to Dad this week.)
Here's Alan's report:
Janice and I went to see Dad on Thursday. He was asleep when we got there, but woke up immediately and started with one of his typical stock phrases - It's good to see you, but then asked "Why are you here?" It seemed to us that he not only recognized us, but clearly understood that we weren't normal visitors. I felt that he understood my answer and some of the implications when I said we were there to go to the MTC the following Monday. While he couldn't really participate in the conversation, Janice noticed that he was carefully listening and if he missed a word you said he wanted it repeated. If you asked him a question, he was unlikely to come up with any response, but he seemed to be getting enough of what was being said to understand when things were funny and when things were causing concern.
(Alan planned on visiting Dad again and writing more, but he didn't have time to write to me about it if he visited again.)
Sally writes:
Your blog reminded me of the hardest part of my trip. It occurred to me back here, and very much too late, that perhaps I should have taken a copy of something like Wind in the Willows and read some of it to Marshall in my best South London accent rather than try to talk about things he didn't remember. I hope my visit wasn't too confusing to him; for me, I was grateful to be able to see him again, and like someone said, very much saw the essence of the person who has such a special place for me and my family. My parents were especially keen to know that I had visited and taken their love. It felt as though they were telling me something very important about the esteem and affection they hold for your Dad.
(I feel so moved by how much Dad is loved--by Sally and her family, by Alan and Janice, and by all the rest of us!)
That's all for this week.
Thanks for reading!
I have two short reports on Dad. One from my brother Alan who went to see Dad before he and his wife went into the Missionary Training Center (MTC) on Aug. 22. The other report is from our friend Sally Perry who visited Utah in July and has written a report about seeing Dad then. (I wasn't able to speak to Dad this week.)
Here's Alan's report:
Janice and I went to see Dad on Thursday. He was asleep when we got there, but woke up immediately and started with one of his typical stock phrases - It's good to see you, but then asked "Why are you here?" It seemed to us that he not only recognized us, but clearly understood that we weren't normal visitors. I felt that he understood my answer and some of the implications when I said we were there to go to the MTC the following Monday. While he couldn't really participate in the conversation, Janice noticed that he was carefully listening and if he missed a word you said he wanted it repeated. If you asked him a question, he was unlikely to come up with any response, but he seemed to be getting enough of what was being said to understand when things were funny and when things were causing concern.
(Alan planned on visiting Dad again and writing more, but he didn't have time to write to me about it if he visited again.)
Sally writes:
Your blog reminded me of the hardest part of my trip. It occurred to me back here, and very much too late, that perhaps I should have taken a copy of something like Wind in the Willows and read some of it to Marshall in my best South London accent rather than try to talk about things he didn't remember. I hope my visit wasn't too confusing to him; for me, I was grateful to be able to see him again, and like someone said, very much saw the essence of the person who has such a special place for me and my family. My parents were especially keen to know that I had visited and taken their love. It felt as though they were telling me something very important about the esteem and affection they hold for your Dad.
(I feel so moved by how much Dad is loved--by Sally and her family, by Alan and Janice, and by all the rest of us!)
That's all for this week.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Update on Dad 8-14-11
Hi, Everybody,
I have just two short phone conversations to report on. The first was on Dad's 95th birthday; the second was tonight.
I was in Pittsburgh on the day of Dad's birthday with my sister Christie and my brother Alan. We went to a production of Twelfth Night by Shakespeare. We tried to call and talk to Dad before the play started, but he was at dinner, and the cordless phone doesn't work in the dining room. We called back during intermission, all of us gathered around Christie's cell phone.
We told Dad he was 95, and told him we what play we were seeing. It wasn't clear to me that he understood what we were telling him, but as I think about it today, it seems very fitting that we called in the middle of a Shakespeare play.
For those who don't know, our family started going to the Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City, Utah when I was in junior high school. We'd camp by a lake in the mountains and in the evening we'd change into nicer clothes and go down the mountain to see a play. On the way down, Dad would tell us a detailed synopsis of the play, complete with the names of all the characters. Then on the way back home up the mountain, we'd discuss the production, ask Dad questions about the play, and talk and talk. I found that then I could read the play and remember what was going on on stage, so I could understand what I read. My siblings and I all remember and cherish that wonderful yearly tradition!
So for this Shakespeare play, as we drove there, I suggested that one of us give Alex, Alan and Janice's grandson, a synopsis of the play--his first Shakespearean play. (Christie's husband, Duane, also welcomed a refresher.) Christie gave a masterful synopsis, one Dad would have been proud of, and afterwards, we discussed the play. It was a great way for us to celebrate Dad's birthday!
Tonight when I phoned, Dad said he was "highly confused," something I haven't heard him say before. I told him that my grandson Jeffrey had a birthday party yesterday and ran around chasing bubbles and saying, "I love bubbles!" No response from Dad. I expanded on the story a bit more, telling him two kids had run right into each other as they chased the bubbles. No response.
I told him that my granddaughter, Evelyn, has apparently started rolling around, but we never see her doing it--we'll find her in a different position, but we won't have seen how she got there. I chuckled at that point, and Dad chuckled too, taking his cue from me, I think. I said we were hoping to actually see her rolling sometime soon. He said, "Oh, good!" then said, "Well, I'll look forward to that."
So he was confused tonight.
I asked him if anyone had visited him today, and he said there was someone there right then. I asked if it was my cousin, thinking maybe I was hearing his voice in the background, but he said it wasn't him. I didn't want to embarrass him by asking who was there in case he couldn't say, so I just asked him to tell them hi from me.
I told Dad I loved him, and he said, "Good, good!" Then he said, "Much love to you."
It's hard not to be able to communicate with him very well anymore, but I am glad I can still speak to him and get some response.
I thought of Dad this week in a very different context as well. Our stove top was in need of a really thorough cleaning, so I volunteered. It made me think of Dad who would start on a little spot that was not coming off and pretty soon he would have the covers off the burners; sometimes he'd take the entire top of the stove off and take it downstairs to our laundry tubs for a good scrubbing.
I felt happy to be doing a job Dad might have done if he'd been able to be at our house.
That's all for tonight. Thanks for reading!
I have just two short phone conversations to report on. The first was on Dad's 95th birthday; the second was tonight.
I was in Pittsburgh on the day of Dad's birthday with my sister Christie and my brother Alan. We went to a production of Twelfth Night by Shakespeare. We tried to call and talk to Dad before the play started, but he was at dinner, and the cordless phone doesn't work in the dining room. We called back during intermission, all of us gathered around Christie's cell phone.
We told Dad he was 95, and told him we what play we were seeing. It wasn't clear to me that he understood what we were telling him, but as I think about it today, it seems very fitting that we called in the middle of a Shakespeare play.
For those who don't know, our family started going to the Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City, Utah when I was in junior high school. We'd camp by a lake in the mountains and in the evening we'd change into nicer clothes and go down the mountain to see a play. On the way down, Dad would tell us a detailed synopsis of the play, complete with the names of all the characters. Then on the way back home up the mountain, we'd discuss the production, ask Dad questions about the play, and talk and talk. I found that then I could read the play and remember what was going on on stage, so I could understand what I read. My siblings and I all remember and cherish that wonderful yearly tradition!
So for this Shakespeare play, as we drove there, I suggested that one of us give Alex, Alan and Janice's grandson, a synopsis of the play--his first Shakespearean play. (Christie's husband, Duane, also welcomed a refresher.) Christie gave a masterful synopsis, one Dad would have been proud of, and afterwards, we discussed the play. It was a great way for us to celebrate Dad's birthday!
Tonight when I phoned, Dad said he was "highly confused," something I haven't heard him say before. I told him that my grandson Jeffrey had a birthday party yesterday and ran around chasing bubbles and saying, "I love bubbles!" No response from Dad. I expanded on the story a bit more, telling him two kids had run right into each other as they chased the bubbles. No response.
I told him that my granddaughter, Evelyn, has apparently started rolling around, but we never see her doing it--we'll find her in a different position, but we won't have seen how she got there. I chuckled at that point, and Dad chuckled too, taking his cue from me, I think. I said we were hoping to actually see her rolling sometime soon. He said, "Oh, good!" then said, "Well, I'll look forward to that."
So he was confused tonight.
I asked him if anyone had visited him today, and he said there was someone there right then. I asked if it was my cousin, thinking maybe I was hearing his voice in the background, but he said it wasn't him. I didn't want to embarrass him by asking who was there in case he couldn't say, so I just asked him to tell them hi from me.
I told Dad I loved him, and he said, "Good, good!" Then he said, "Much love to you."
It's hard not to be able to communicate with him very well anymore, but I am glad I can still speak to him and get some response.
I thought of Dad this week in a very different context as well. Our stove top was in need of a really thorough cleaning, so I volunteered. It made me think of Dad who would start on a little spot that was not coming off and pretty soon he would have the covers off the burners; sometimes he'd take the entire top of the stove off and take it downstairs to our laundry tubs for a good scrubbing.
I felt happy to be doing a job Dad might have done if he'd been able to be at our house.
That's all for tonight. Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Update on Dad 8-3-11
Hi, Everyone,
Sorry to be slow again--this time it was a summer cold that delayed me.
I've asked our friend Sally Perry from England who visited recently for something to put up on the blog, but I didn't think to ask her until today, so her report will be something for my next update. My sister Martha reported on a recent visit with him, I spoke to Dad very briefly on the phone on Sunday, and my brother Alan who was in Utah in late June/early July also reported briefly on my dad.
Here's Martha's report:
"I wanted to tell you that recently when Dave and I visited Dad, he was still in the dining room for dinner, but had eaten almost everything--with help, I'm sure. We had someone help him back into bed, and he introduced us to the aid as his oldest daughter and her husband. I have been sure that he knew who we were, but I haven't heard him tell anyone for a very long time. When we went a couple of days ago, it was after 8:30. He had been asleep and his roommate clearly was, so we just visited very quietly and briefly. We'll plan to see him again tomorrow."
When I spoke to Dad on the phone on Sunday, he took a long time coming up with an answer to my question, "How are you?" He finally said, "I'm not very active." I told him that at his age, being active wasn't expected.
I told him he will be 95 on Friday, and he promptly replied, "Well, I can't believe that!"
I mentioned to him that my brother Alan and his wife Janice will be leaving on their mission soon, but Dad interrupted me to say he needed to go to the bathroom. (He has a catheter, but doesn't remember that.)
So it was a very short conversation, but he certainly responded to the news about his age. He certain never believed he'd live this long!
Alan wrote:
"I had two visits with my Dad. The first one he was quite alert and the second one was short because he was falling asleep as I talked. I really don’t think he retains much from any conversation, but it is easier to tell him stories when he is at least making some response. The latest on him is that his blood sugar levels are too high, but nothing is happening yet that anyone could notice. From one trip to the next I don’t see a lot of difference in him, though he clearly has good and bad days. When he is being responsive, it is likely to be only a few words at a time, and perhaps the response is just a nod or a click of the tongue. I’m fairly certain he has no idea of what I am really doing."
I think you can see in the reports here the range of Dad's awareness--sometimes even within one conversation.
Thank you for caring about Dad.
Sorry to be slow again--this time it was a summer cold that delayed me.
I've asked our friend Sally Perry from England who visited recently for something to put up on the blog, but I didn't think to ask her until today, so her report will be something for my next update. My sister Martha reported on a recent visit with him, I spoke to Dad very briefly on the phone on Sunday, and my brother Alan who was in Utah in late June/early July also reported briefly on my dad.
Here's Martha's report:
"I wanted to tell you that recently when Dave and I visited Dad, he was still in the dining room for dinner, but had eaten almost everything--with help, I'm sure. We had someone help him back into bed, and he introduced us to the aid as his oldest daughter and her husband. I have been sure that he knew who we were, but I haven't heard him tell anyone for a very long time. When we went a couple of days ago, it was after 8:30. He had been asleep and his roommate clearly was, so we just visited very quietly and briefly. We'll plan to see him again tomorrow."
When I spoke to Dad on the phone on Sunday, he took a long time coming up with an answer to my question, "How are you?" He finally said, "I'm not very active." I told him that at his age, being active wasn't expected.
I told him he will be 95 on Friday, and he promptly replied, "Well, I can't believe that!"
I mentioned to him that my brother Alan and his wife Janice will be leaving on their mission soon, but Dad interrupted me to say he needed to go to the bathroom. (He has a catheter, but doesn't remember that.)
So it was a very short conversation, but he certainly responded to the news about his age. He certain never believed he'd live this long!
Alan wrote:
"I had two visits with my Dad. The first one he was quite alert and the second one was short because he was falling asleep as I talked. I really don’t think he retains much from any conversation, but it is easier to tell him stories when he is at least making some response. The latest on him is that his blood sugar levels are too high, but nothing is happening yet that anyone could notice. From one trip to the next I don’t see a lot of difference in him, though he clearly has good and bad days. When he is being responsive, it is likely to be only a few words at a time, and perhaps the response is just a nod or a click of the tongue. I’m fairly certain he has no idea of what I am really doing."
I think you can see in the reports here the range of Dad's awareness--sometimes even within one conversation.
Thank you for caring about Dad.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Update on Dad 7-18-11
Sorry to be slow getting my blog up this week! I took the day off yesterday.
So my report today comes from my second visit with Dad while I was in Utah, from a report of our friend Sally's visit to Dad, and my conversation with him last night.
I visited Dad on July 6, and as I was riding to Springville on the bus, I was thinking that I don't give Dad a chance to talk enough--I just tell him stories, so I decided to try to get Dad to talk.
When I got there, I had to wake Dad up, but he was glad to see me, but he kept closing his eyes again whenever there was a pause in the conversation.
I told him that Bob (Nickelson, Lucy's husband) showed me photos he'd found of the Sentry, the Caution, and the YMS, the three minesweepers Dad served on in World War II. I got no response. I told him those were the ships he'd served on, and he said he couldn't remember.
Bob also had found "muster rolls" that Dad had signed showing weekly what men were on the ship. (Where did the Navy think they'd go every week?) We recognized some of the names of the men. I asked Dad if he remembered Story. He said, "Oh, yes!" But then when I reminded him of my favorite of Dad's tales about Story, he didn't remember.
Story, the ship's cook, had made a pie for the men in a huge rectangular pan and set it to cool in an out of the way place--behind a ladder the men used. As I remember the story, a seaman was coming down the ladder, the ship lurched, and he put his foot in the middle of the pie. (My brother John says the men were horsing around and that's why he put his foot in the pie.) So Dad told Story to just cut the footprint out of the pie and give everyone a smaller piece.
John reminded me there was more to the story: the cook's assistant had put salt in the sugar container, so when the men tasted the pie, it wasn't edible!
I asked Dad if he remembered White--another name on the muster roll. I don't think he was as sure about that. I asked him if White was the one that his friend Grabarkowitz had teased about being able to identify friendly and enemy planes just by their sound. Dad didn't remember.
The story is that White (if it was White) had bragged about some time (I'm not remembering the details) when the captain of a ship had called on him to say which planes flying above them were friendly and enemy planes--it was dark or overcast. He'd pointed, saying "Friendly," and then pointed to another, calling out, "Enemy."
So one time when the ship Dad was on was under fire, Grabarkowitz started pointing and calling out, "Friendly, enemy . . . friendly, enemy," relieving the tension and making everyone laugh.
That day that I was visiting Dad was also the day that our friend Sally from England had visited, so I asked Dad if she'd visited. He said he guessed so. (She brought pictures of our house in England and of herself when she lived with us years ago.) I asked if he recognized our house on Rectory Lane. "Oh, yes!" And I talked to him about the pictures of Min and Reg, Sally's parents. I said there were only a few of them. He agreed.
I tried to talk to Dad about my living in Pennsylvania now. I felt he didn't comprehend what I was saying.
When I was leaving, I said to Dad, "In less than a month, you'll be 95!" "Oh my goodness," he said. I said, "You're competing with Norton and . . . (his oldest sister's name wasn't coming immediately to my mind). . . Muriel." He said "Muriel" before I'd finished saying her name. (His brother Norton lived to be 97 and his sister Muriel lived to be 99.) Dad's supplying Muriel's name suggested to me that he knew what I was talking about then.
As I was leaving, I held Dad's hand, he patted and stroked mine again and again, making me wish I'd held his hand the whole time I visited him. When I told him I loved him, he said, "Well I hope you know how much I love you!"
After my visit with Dad, I talked to Sally about her visit. It was disappointing. Dad was tired and falling asleep and didn't really look at the pictures Sally brought, so his claim to recognize the house on Rectory Lane was likely just him giving a standard response. Elaine (John's wife who took Sally to see Dad) suggested they come back later to visit. They did, with my sister Martha also.
Sally said that Dad recognized Elaine and Martha but seemed confused about who she was. We were all sorry that Dad wasn't able to recognize Sally or enjoy her pictures. She is someone he loves, but at least when she visited, he couldn't access that part of his memory to realize what a loved and loving visitor he had.
I was glad to see Dad and it was hard to see him. Seeing him, I was more aware of his decline than I am talking to him on the phone.
When I talked to him yesterday on the phone, at first I thought he had visitors, because I could hear voices in the background and he seemed more responsive. But later Dad said no one was there.
He wasn't sure if he remembered my visits to him in Utah. He told me several times how good my voice sounded. I told him he sounded good too, and he said, "Well, I've had practice!"
Then Dad asked me where I was now. I told him again that I was living in Pennsylvania with my daughter and son-in-law and helping to take care of the kids. He gave one of his stock responses.
He chuckled to hear about Evelyn (his great-granddaughter) who can now roll over but then doesn't know what to do with herself when she's on her tummy, so she gets mad.
We said we loved each other, and said our goodbyes. I felt that Dad was a bit more responsive than I expected, and I always appreciate that.
While I was in Utah, I spoke to several people at church who have visited Dad. We all appreciate so much those who visit Dad! Thank you.
So my report today comes from my second visit with Dad while I was in Utah, from a report of our friend Sally's visit to Dad, and my conversation with him last night.
I visited Dad on July 6, and as I was riding to Springville on the bus, I was thinking that I don't give Dad a chance to talk enough--I just tell him stories, so I decided to try to get Dad to talk.
When I got there, I had to wake Dad up, but he was glad to see me, but he kept closing his eyes again whenever there was a pause in the conversation.
I told him that Bob (Nickelson, Lucy's husband) showed me photos he'd found of the Sentry, the Caution, and the YMS, the three minesweepers Dad served on in World War II. I got no response. I told him those were the ships he'd served on, and he said he couldn't remember.
Bob also had found "muster rolls" that Dad had signed showing weekly what men were on the ship. (Where did the Navy think they'd go every week?) We recognized some of the names of the men. I asked Dad if he remembered Story. He said, "Oh, yes!" But then when I reminded him of my favorite of Dad's tales about Story, he didn't remember.
Story, the ship's cook, had made a pie for the men in a huge rectangular pan and set it to cool in an out of the way place--behind a ladder the men used. As I remember the story, a seaman was coming down the ladder, the ship lurched, and he put his foot in the middle of the pie. (My brother John says the men were horsing around and that's why he put his foot in the pie.) So Dad told Story to just cut the footprint out of the pie and give everyone a smaller piece.
John reminded me there was more to the story: the cook's assistant had put salt in the sugar container, so when the men tasted the pie, it wasn't edible!
I asked Dad if he remembered White--another name on the muster roll. I don't think he was as sure about that. I asked him if White was the one that his friend Grabarkowitz had teased about being able to identify friendly and enemy planes just by their sound. Dad didn't remember.
The story is that White (if it was White) had bragged about some time (I'm not remembering the details) when the captain of a ship had called on him to say which planes flying above them were friendly and enemy planes--it was dark or overcast. He'd pointed, saying "Friendly," and then pointed to another, calling out, "Enemy."
So one time when the ship Dad was on was under fire, Grabarkowitz started pointing and calling out, "Friendly, enemy . . . friendly, enemy," relieving the tension and making everyone laugh.
That day that I was visiting Dad was also the day that our friend Sally from England had visited, so I asked Dad if she'd visited. He said he guessed so. (She brought pictures of our house in England and of herself when she lived with us years ago.) I asked if he recognized our house on Rectory Lane. "Oh, yes!" And I talked to him about the pictures of Min and Reg, Sally's parents. I said there were only a few of them. He agreed.
I tried to talk to Dad about my living in Pennsylvania now. I felt he didn't comprehend what I was saying.
When I was leaving, I said to Dad, "In less than a month, you'll be 95!" "Oh my goodness," he said. I said, "You're competing with Norton and . . . (his oldest sister's name wasn't coming immediately to my mind). . . Muriel." He said "Muriel" before I'd finished saying her name. (His brother Norton lived to be 97 and his sister Muriel lived to be 99.) Dad's supplying Muriel's name suggested to me that he knew what I was talking about then.
As I was leaving, I held Dad's hand, he patted and stroked mine again and again, making me wish I'd held his hand the whole time I visited him. When I told him I loved him, he said, "Well I hope you know how much I love you!"
After my visit with Dad, I talked to Sally about her visit. It was disappointing. Dad was tired and falling asleep and didn't really look at the pictures Sally brought, so his claim to recognize the house on Rectory Lane was likely just him giving a standard response. Elaine (John's wife who took Sally to see Dad) suggested they come back later to visit. They did, with my sister Martha also.
Sally said that Dad recognized Elaine and Martha but seemed confused about who she was. We were all sorry that Dad wasn't able to recognize Sally or enjoy her pictures. She is someone he loves, but at least when she visited, he couldn't access that part of his memory to realize what a loved and loving visitor he had.
I was glad to see Dad and it was hard to see him. Seeing him, I was more aware of his decline than I am talking to him on the phone.
When I talked to him yesterday on the phone, at first I thought he had visitors, because I could hear voices in the background and he seemed more responsive. But later Dad said no one was there.
He wasn't sure if he remembered my visits to him in Utah. He told me several times how good my voice sounded. I told him he sounded good too, and he said, "Well, I've had practice!"
Then Dad asked me where I was now. I told him again that I was living in Pennsylvania with my daughter and son-in-law and helping to take care of the kids. He gave one of his stock responses.
He chuckled to hear about Evelyn (his great-granddaughter) who can now roll over but then doesn't know what to do with herself when she's on her tummy, so she gets mad.
We said we loved each other, and said our goodbyes. I felt that Dad was a bit more responsive than I expected, and I always appreciate that.
While I was in Utah, I spoke to several people at church who have visited Dad. We all appreciate so much those who visit Dad! Thank you.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Update on Dad 7-3-11
Hello, Everyone,
I have quite a lot to tell you about Dad tonight: my sister Martha, her husband Dave, my brother Alan and his wife Janice, and my daughter, Christine, all told me about visits to Dad, and I got to visit him today!
Just as an aside, Dad now has his hair cut short--just stubble. We all find it disconcerting though we know it's easier to take care of. Both Janice and I agree--it looks like a prison haircut.
Martha told me recently that Dad has been diagnosed with Type II diabetes. He is on a pill--I'm not sure if it's the kind that stimulates the pancreas to work harder or one that helps the cells absorb glucose from the bloodstream, but it helps to keep his blood sugar levels down. The staff at the care facility also monitors his blood sugar levels four times a day.
Martha also told me that when they visited this week, Dad was cheerful, alert, and as talkative as they've seen him recently--meaning, she explained, that he said a couple of actual sentences.
Dave told me that they took Dad some good chocolate recently, and when they were leaving, he took both of their hands and said, "You are the best relatives!" Dave said, "Why? Because we bring you chocolate?" Dad said, "Yes!"
Alan and Janice also visited Dad recently. (They're in Utah visiting family before they leave for their mission to Brazil in August.) Alan said Dad seemed aware "in chunks," which I took to mean that at times he seemed aware and at other times less aware. Janice noted that Dad was feeling very cold but didn't seem to know what to do about it. He had a couple of blankets on him, but apparently not enough. (Janice noticed that the air conditioning vent in his room blows right on his bed.) They're planning on getting him something that will help him stay warmer.
My daughter Christine and her family visited Dad when they were in Utah in June. Christine thought Dad knew who she was, and he was very taken with my granddaughter, Evelyn, wiggling his finger at her and enjoying her smiling and babbling.
My grandson Jeffrey sang Dad the ABC song, and Christine tried to get Jeffrey to show off his knowledge of what state people were born in. (Dad and Jeffrey's father, Michael, were born in the same state.) Christine wasn't sure Dad understood that discussion, and Jeffrey talked very quietly, but she felt they had a good visit.
I visited Dad today with John's daughter Lisa and her husband, Court. When we walked into the room, I thought there was no one in Dad's bed, just crumpled blankets, but Dad was there, looking shrunken and frail to me. He woke up and greeted me warmly and seemed to know who I was.
He seemed to remember visits from Christine and her family and others, but he may just have been faking it well--it's hard to know. He chuckled at my story about Jeffrey's exaggerated sentence intonation--something I've told him about before.
I showed him pictures of the kids. He made admiring noises about Evelyn, and he chuckled at a picture of Jeffrey nursing his stuffed cow.
I tried to tell him a story that was probably too long about Jeffrey being dissatisfied with my explanation of why we don't see well in the dark but grinning at his dad's scientific explanation about wavelengths of a certain magnitude.
I kissed him goodbye, and he kissed me back. I told him I loved him, and he said, "I love you too--I hope you know that!" I told him I did, and we left.
I hope to see Dad again before I leave, and I'll report on that visit next time I blog.
Thanks for reading and caring!
Alison
I have quite a lot to tell you about Dad tonight: my sister Martha, her husband Dave, my brother Alan and his wife Janice, and my daughter, Christine, all told me about visits to Dad, and I got to visit him today!
Just as an aside, Dad now has his hair cut short--just stubble. We all find it disconcerting though we know it's easier to take care of. Both Janice and I agree--it looks like a prison haircut.
Martha told me recently that Dad has been diagnosed with Type II diabetes. He is on a pill--I'm not sure if it's the kind that stimulates the pancreas to work harder or one that helps the cells absorb glucose from the bloodstream, but it helps to keep his blood sugar levels down. The staff at the care facility also monitors his blood sugar levels four times a day.
Martha also told me that when they visited this week, Dad was cheerful, alert, and as talkative as they've seen him recently--meaning, she explained, that he said a couple of actual sentences.
Dave told me that they took Dad some good chocolate recently, and when they were leaving, he took both of their hands and said, "You are the best relatives!" Dave said, "Why? Because we bring you chocolate?" Dad said, "Yes!"
Alan and Janice also visited Dad recently. (They're in Utah visiting family before they leave for their mission to Brazil in August.) Alan said Dad seemed aware "in chunks," which I took to mean that at times he seemed aware and at other times less aware. Janice noted that Dad was feeling very cold but didn't seem to know what to do about it. He had a couple of blankets on him, but apparently not enough. (Janice noticed that the air conditioning vent in his room blows right on his bed.) They're planning on getting him something that will help him stay warmer.
My daughter Christine and her family visited Dad when they were in Utah in June. Christine thought Dad knew who she was, and he was very taken with my granddaughter, Evelyn, wiggling his finger at her and enjoying her smiling and babbling.
My grandson Jeffrey sang Dad the ABC song, and Christine tried to get Jeffrey to show off his knowledge of what state people were born in. (Dad and Jeffrey's father, Michael, were born in the same state.) Christine wasn't sure Dad understood that discussion, and Jeffrey talked very quietly, but she felt they had a good visit.
I visited Dad today with John's daughter Lisa and her husband, Court. When we walked into the room, I thought there was no one in Dad's bed, just crumpled blankets, but Dad was there, looking shrunken and frail to me. He woke up and greeted me warmly and seemed to know who I was.
He seemed to remember visits from Christine and her family and others, but he may just have been faking it well--it's hard to know. He chuckled at my story about Jeffrey's exaggerated sentence intonation--something I've told him about before.
I showed him pictures of the kids. He made admiring noises about Evelyn, and he chuckled at a picture of Jeffrey nursing his stuffed cow.
I tried to tell him a story that was probably too long about Jeffrey being dissatisfied with my explanation of why we don't see well in the dark but grinning at his dad's scientific explanation about wavelengths of a certain magnitude.
I kissed him goodbye, and he kissed me back. I told him I loved him, and he said, "I love you too--I hope you know that!" I told him I did, and we left.
I hope to see Dad again before I leave, and I'll report on that visit next time I blog.
Thanks for reading and caring!
Alison
Monday, June 20, 2011
Update on Dad 6-20-11
Sorry to be late again this week--with Father's Day and my son-in-law's birthday to celebrate yesterday, I wasn't able to write anything.
My report today comes from the weekend nurse who I spoke to briefly last night, from my sister Martha, and from my short conversation with Dad.
The weekend nurse said Dad has been pushing himself around in his wheelchair a lot yesterday. She was pleased because she thought that would tire him out and help him sleep better. Dad was asleep, and the nurse seemed reluctant to wake him, so I tried to accept that I wouldn't get to talk to Dad on Father's Day.
However, when I spoke to Martha, she said Dad's always asleep and she hadn't gotten to visit him any of the times she'd tried during the week, so she'd go to the nursing home and see if they could wake him easily. We agreed that if she could wake him, she'd phone me, so I could talk to Dad.
Martha called me from the nursing home, saying Dad had woken right up.
I was able to tell Dad Happy Father's Day. I told him again that my daughter, Christine, and her family would be coming to see him. He said something like, "Oh, it'll be nice to see them," a bit more than just one of his stock responses.
I hadn't really thought of what to tell him about the grandkids, so I just told him again that Evelyn's very cute and grins and coos. I told him that Jeffrey's intonation is very exaggerated, saying "WHY is EVelyn cryiiiiing?" I didn't get a response until I said something about it being very cute. Dad said, "Oh yes!"
I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me, and I told him I'd be visiting soon. He said he'd look forward to seeing me, and we said goodbye.
I'm sorry I won't be there when he meets Evelyn and sees Jeffrey again, but I hope he's able to be aware enough to enjoy them!
After Dad and I said goodbye, Martha and I spoke for a little longer. She said Dad was having pain around his catheter and that they'd arranged for him to get some pain medication and that she'd have them check the catheter to make sure there wasn't a problem.
Martha said Dad was cheerful and didn't appear to be confused at all about who I was--that's nice to hear!
My next time to blog about Dad is scheduled for July 3. I'll be in Utah then, so I'll try to make sure I let you know what's up either on the 3rd or the 4th.
That's all for this week. Thanks for reading!
My report today comes from the weekend nurse who I spoke to briefly last night, from my sister Martha, and from my short conversation with Dad.
The weekend nurse said Dad has been pushing himself around in his wheelchair a lot yesterday. She was pleased because she thought that would tire him out and help him sleep better. Dad was asleep, and the nurse seemed reluctant to wake him, so I tried to accept that I wouldn't get to talk to Dad on Father's Day.
However, when I spoke to Martha, she said Dad's always asleep and she hadn't gotten to visit him any of the times she'd tried during the week, so she'd go to the nursing home and see if they could wake him easily. We agreed that if she could wake him, she'd phone me, so I could talk to Dad.
Martha called me from the nursing home, saying Dad had woken right up.
I was able to tell Dad Happy Father's Day. I told him again that my daughter, Christine, and her family would be coming to see him. He said something like, "Oh, it'll be nice to see them," a bit more than just one of his stock responses.
I hadn't really thought of what to tell him about the grandkids, so I just told him again that Evelyn's very cute and grins and coos. I told him that Jeffrey's intonation is very exaggerated, saying "WHY is EVelyn cryiiiiing?" I didn't get a response until I said something about it being very cute. Dad said, "Oh yes!"
I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me, and I told him I'd be visiting soon. He said he'd look forward to seeing me, and we said goodbye.
I'm sorry I won't be there when he meets Evelyn and sees Jeffrey again, but I hope he's able to be aware enough to enjoy them!
After Dad and I said goodbye, Martha and I spoke for a little longer. She said Dad was having pain around his catheter and that they'd arranged for him to get some pain medication and that she'd have them check the catheter to make sure there wasn't a problem.
Martha said Dad was cheerful and didn't appear to be confused at all about who I was--that's nice to hear!
My next time to blog about Dad is scheduled for July 3. I'll be in Utah then, so I'll try to make sure I let you know what's up either on the 3rd or the 4th.
That's all for this week. Thanks for reading!
Monday, June 6, 2011
Update on Dad 6-6-11
Hi, loyal readers!
I'm sorry I wasn't able to blog about Dad last night. My sisters, one of my sisters-in-law, a friend, and I are having a sisters' reunion, and I wasn't free to blog last night or even phone Dad, so my report on him is short today.
My two sisters who live in Utah, Lucy and Martha, both say they see Dad as slowly declining. He sleeps more and wants to talk less. His interest in things of this world is declining. Martha took Dad pictures of her new grandson and my new granddaughter and said Dad hardly looked at them and had no response. I've been told that it's hard to visit him because he's so unresponsive.
Dad's lack of response fits so clearly into the pattern described in the booklet on stages of dying that we received when Dad was first put on hospice. It describes a withdrawal from this life as the person prepares for death. My rational mind and my faith both see this stage as a necessary part of Dad's journey into the next life and to his reunion with my mom, with his parents and siblings, and with so many of his friends--and I'm crying as I write this. It's hard to let him go even though I know we need to.
My cousin Laurie Craig (Skip to the family) visited Dad last night and tried to call me, so we could talk. He left a very cheerful message about Dad, saying that Dad looked good and that Dad said he was feeling well.
I phoned this morning to speak to someone at the care facility, knowing it was too early in Utah for Dad to be awake. The nurse had been away for several days, but she checked with the nurse's aide who'd been on duty yesterday. The aide said Dad got up for both meals and ate lunch by himself. The nurse then checked through his chart and said he's "doing great"--a relative term, I suppose!
The nurse then asked if I'd visited Dad at the nursing home where he used to be, and when I explained who I was, said she remembered me. When I told her I'd be visiting in July, she said she'd look forward to seeing me. Her willingness to find out information for me and to connect with me as a member of Dad's family reminds me that they do love and care about Dad there and about us too.
My sister Christie at church yesterday bore a lovely testimony about her gratitude for our family. She talked about how grateful she was to have been taught from an early age to question from a position of faith and that she didn't think she would still be in the Church if she hadn't had that training. Christie clearly also attributes all the siblings being active in Church to the way we were raised. She mentioned that Mom and Dad taught us to accept and honor people's differences and described how she found that same acceptance in her current ward. Her testimony was a great tribute to Mom and Dad.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
I'm sorry I wasn't able to blog about Dad last night. My sisters, one of my sisters-in-law, a friend, and I are having a sisters' reunion, and I wasn't free to blog last night or even phone Dad, so my report on him is short today.
My two sisters who live in Utah, Lucy and Martha, both say they see Dad as slowly declining. He sleeps more and wants to talk less. His interest in things of this world is declining. Martha took Dad pictures of her new grandson and my new granddaughter and said Dad hardly looked at them and had no response. I've been told that it's hard to visit him because he's so unresponsive.
Dad's lack of response fits so clearly into the pattern described in the booklet on stages of dying that we received when Dad was first put on hospice. It describes a withdrawal from this life as the person prepares for death. My rational mind and my faith both see this stage as a necessary part of Dad's journey into the next life and to his reunion with my mom, with his parents and siblings, and with so many of his friends--and I'm crying as I write this. It's hard to let him go even though I know we need to.
My cousin Laurie Craig (Skip to the family) visited Dad last night and tried to call me, so we could talk. He left a very cheerful message about Dad, saying that Dad looked good and that Dad said he was feeling well.
I phoned this morning to speak to someone at the care facility, knowing it was too early in Utah for Dad to be awake. The nurse had been away for several days, but she checked with the nurse's aide who'd been on duty yesterday. The aide said Dad got up for both meals and ate lunch by himself. The nurse then checked through his chart and said he's "doing great"--a relative term, I suppose!
The nurse then asked if I'd visited Dad at the nursing home where he used to be, and when I explained who I was, said she remembered me. When I told her I'd be visiting in July, she said she'd look forward to seeing me. Her willingness to find out information for me and to connect with me as a member of Dad's family reminds me that they do love and care about Dad there and about us too.
My sister Christie at church yesterday bore a lovely testimony about her gratitude for our family. She talked about how grateful she was to have been taught from an early age to question from a position of faith and that she didn't think she would still be in the Church if she hadn't had that training. Christie clearly also attributes all the siblings being active in Church to the way we were raised. She mentioned that Mom and Dad taught us to accept and honor people's differences and described how she found that same acceptance in her current ward. Her testimony was a great tribute to Mom and Dad.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Update on Dad 5-22-11
Hi, All,
Today I have a report on the same conversation from my brother-in-law Bob Nickelson and from my brother Alan, and a report on my brief conversation with Dad tonight.
Bob phoned me last Sunday night after his weekly visit with Dad. He reported that Dad was very hard to wake up. Bob kept rubbing his arm until Dad finally was awake enough to visit. Bob reminded Dad that my brother Alan and his wife Janice are getting ready to leave on a mission to Brazil. Bob commmented that Alan would really appreciate a chance to talk with Dad.
Both Alan and Bob reported much of the conversation, with Dad sounding quite lively and participating in the conversation. Alan said that Dad kept saying to him, "Your voice sounds so good!" Bob reported that Dad laughed a couple of times as Alan talked to him.
At one point as Alan was describing what he was working on, Dad said, "I wish I could be there to help you," indicating that Dad was aware at least in that moment of what was going on.
Dad replied to Alan's message of love by saying, "We love everyone too." Bob wondered if he was sending love from himself and Mom--as he's done countless times throughout his life.
I told Bob that I thought he'd kind of warmed Dad up for the conversation with Alan, and I think his visitors tonight warmed him up for his conversation with me.
When I phoned and heard voices in the background, Dad agreed he had visitors, but I didn't ask who they were, assuming that Dad wasn't sure. He tried to tell me about some kind of family event coming up, but he couldn't complete his thought, so I wasn't sure what it was about. Dad sounded enthusiastic about whatever it was.
He told me he was doing, "very well, very well." I mentioned that I'd sent some baby pictures to my sister Martha, but he didn't think he'd seen them yet. I told him that Evelyn is smiling and cooing now, and he gave one of his stock responses.
I told him that when we come home from a ride in the car, I say to Jeffrey, "To market, to market to buy a fat pig; home again, home again . . " when I pause, Jeffrey will often supply the last line, "jiggity jig." I then say the second verse, "To market, to market to buy a fat hog; home again, home again," and Jeffrey adds, "jiggity jog." Dad chuckled. I told Dad it made me think of him--he'd often say when we arrived home, "Home again, home again, jiggity jig." Dad said he was pleased that I was thinking of him.
I told him Jeffrey's a little confused by "jiggity jig" and "jiggity jog"--"but why do they say those funny words?" Dad chuckled when I did--aware when I got to the punchline!
I told Dad that Christine and Michael would be coming to visit him in June and bringing the kids and that I'd come to visit in July. He responded that he was especially excited by those coming to see me. I'm not sure if he was confused about what I was saying about the visit or if this is his continued confusion about where I am.
When I said, "We'll be coming to see you," He said, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
I sent love from me and the rest of the family here, and he said goodbye and sent love to us.
It was a good conversation, with Dad participating more that he often does. It's so nice to have those moments!
Thanks for reading, everyone, and thanks for caring about Dad.
Alison
Today I have a report on the same conversation from my brother-in-law Bob Nickelson and from my brother Alan, and a report on my brief conversation with Dad tonight.
Bob phoned me last Sunday night after his weekly visit with Dad. He reported that Dad was very hard to wake up. Bob kept rubbing his arm until Dad finally was awake enough to visit. Bob reminded Dad that my brother Alan and his wife Janice are getting ready to leave on a mission to Brazil. Bob commmented that Alan would really appreciate a chance to talk with Dad.
Both Alan and Bob reported much of the conversation, with Dad sounding quite lively and participating in the conversation. Alan said that Dad kept saying to him, "Your voice sounds so good!" Bob reported that Dad laughed a couple of times as Alan talked to him.
At one point as Alan was describing what he was working on, Dad said, "I wish I could be there to help you," indicating that Dad was aware at least in that moment of what was going on.
Dad replied to Alan's message of love by saying, "We love everyone too." Bob wondered if he was sending love from himself and Mom--as he's done countless times throughout his life.
I told Bob that I thought he'd kind of warmed Dad up for the conversation with Alan, and I think his visitors tonight warmed him up for his conversation with me.
When I phoned and heard voices in the background, Dad agreed he had visitors, but I didn't ask who they were, assuming that Dad wasn't sure. He tried to tell me about some kind of family event coming up, but he couldn't complete his thought, so I wasn't sure what it was about. Dad sounded enthusiastic about whatever it was.
He told me he was doing, "very well, very well." I mentioned that I'd sent some baby pictures to my sister Martha, but he didn't think he'd seen them yet. I told him that Evelyn is smiling and cooing now, and he gave one of his stock responses.
I told him that when we come home from a ride in the car, I say to Jeffrey, "To market, to market to buy a fat pig; home again, home again . . " when I pause, Jeffrey will often supply the last line, "jiggity jig." I then say the second verse, "To market, to market to buy a fat hog; home again, home again," and Jeffrey adds, "jiggity jog." Dad chuckled. I told Dad it made me think of him--he'd often say when we arrived home, "Home again, home again, jiggity jig." Dad said he was pleased that I was thinking of him.
I told him Jeffrey's a little confused by "jiggity jig" and "jiggity jog"--"but why do they say those funny words?" Dad chuckled when I did--aware when I got to the punchline!
I told Dad that Christine and Michael would be coming to visit him in June and bringing the kids and that I'd come to visit in July. He responded that he was especially excited by those coming to see me. I'm not sure if he was confused about what I was saying about the visit or if this is his continued confusion about where I am.
When I said, "We'll be coming to see you," He said, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
I sent love from me and the rest of the family here, and he said goodbye and sent love to us.
It was a good conversation, with Dad participating more that he often does. It's so nice to have those moments!
Thanks for reading, everyone, and thanks for caring about Dad.
Alison
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Update on Dad 5-8-11
Hello, Everybody,
Tonight I have a report from my own short conversation with Dad and from my sisters Lucy and Martha.
I told Dad that the new baby, Evelyn, was smiling a lot, and he gave one of his stock responses, "Oh my."
I told him a story about my grandson, Jeffrey, that was longer than I realized it would be, but he did seem to enjoy it. I told him I'd forgotten how unanswerable toddler's questions are. (I had to tell him that there had been a royal wedding in London, and that I'd shown Jeffrey a picture of a footman.) Jeffrey asked, "Why ARE they footmans?" Dad chuckled.
I told Dad that I would be coming to see him in July, and he said he'd look forward to that. (I tell him every time we talk because he doesn't remember.)
Dad had to ask me to repeat myself several times--he was having a hard time hearing me.
For the first time, when I told Dad I loved him and sent love from the rest of the family here, he didn't send love back, just said he it was good to talk to me, and we said our goodbyes.
When I told Lucy that Dad seemed less responsive tonight, she said he's seemed tired and not very responsive to her or to her husband, Bob. But she said Bob can often interest Dad in pictures on his smart phone. Lucy said, however, that after a visit where Dad seemed tired and not up for much conversation, as Bob was leaving, Dad said, "Hope you have a good week at school"--indicating that Dad knew he was talking to Bob, a school teacher.
Lucy recently took Dad drawings sent from her daughter Britta's girls. She said Dad appreciates them even if he's not sure who the pictures are from.
Lucy also mentioned again how much the staff appreciate Dad because he's so good-natured and easy to deal with.
Martha told me that recently when she and her husband and daughter Emily visited Dad in the morning, when John and his family visited later in the day, Dad told him that Martha and family had visited earlier in the day--a surprise to us all that he remembered for that long!
Of course it's hard to know if Dad's fading more in general or just having a slow time for now. I think that I'll know better when I'm there to visit, but I may be able to tell and may not.
Thanks for reading!
Alison
Tonight I have a report from my own short conversation with Dad and from my sisters Lucy and Martha.
I told Dad that the new baby, Evelyn, was smiling a lot, and he gave one of his stock responses, "Oh my."
I told him a story about my grandson, Jeffrey, that was longer than I realized it would be, but he did seem to enjoy it. I told him I'd forgotten how unanswerable toddler's questions are. (I had to tell him that there had been a royal wedding in London, and that I'd shown Jeffrey a picture of a footman.) Jeffrey asked, "Why ARE they footmans?" Dad chuckled.
I told Dad that I would be coming to see him in July, and he said he'd look forward to that. (I tell him every time we talk because he doesn't remember.)
Dad had to ask me to repeat myself several times--he was having a hard time hearing me.
For the first time, when I told Dad I loved him and sent love from the rest of the family here, he didn't send love back, just said he it was good to talk to me, and we said our goodbyes.
When I told Lucy that Dad seemed less responsive tonight, she said he's seemed tired and not very responsive to her or to her husband, Bob. But she said Bob can often interest Dad in pictures on his smart phone. Lucy said, however, that after a visit where Dad seemed tired and not up for much conversation, as Bob was leaving, Dad said, "Hope you have a good week at school"--indicating that Dad knew he was talking to Bob, a school teacher.
Lucy recently took Dad drawings sent from her daughter Britta's girls. She said Dad appreciates them even if he's not sure who the pictures are from.
Lucy also mentioned again how much the staff appreciate Dad because he's so good-natured and easy to deal with.
Martha told me that recently when she and her husband and daughter Emily visited Dad in the morning, when John and his family visited later in the day, Dad told him that Martha and family had visited earlier in the day--a surprise to us all that he remembered for that long!
Of course it's hard to know if Dad's fading more in general or just having a slow time for now. I think that I'll know better when I'm there to visit, but I may be able to tell and may not.
Thanks for reading!
Alison
Monday, April 25, 2011
Update on Dad 4-25-11
Hi, All,
Sorry to be slow getting my blog done. Yesterday was an extra busy day: my granddaughter was blessed at church; we had my son-in-law's family visiting from out of town, and it was Easter!
My update is from a brief report from my sister Christie and a short conversation I had with Dad.
Christie spoke to Dad last week for about 10 minutes--quite a long conversation in my view. She reported that he was responsive and seemed to understand what she was saying.
I spoke to Dad this morning on the phone. The staff member I spoke to first said Dad hadn't gotten up for breakfast and was feeling some pain--no specifics--and that they were getting him a pain pill.
When we spoke, his voice sounded a bit slurred as it sometimes does when he first starts to talk, but he said he was "doing well, very well"--a bit more than he usually says.
I told him that my son-in-law, Michael, gave the baby a very nice blessing despite having such a busy day--he also played for choir practice before church and then had three choir numbers to play for after the blessing during church. (I got a stock answer from Dad, "Oh my.")
Then I told him that when Michael's mother saw the baby, she said, "Oh, she's beautiful! She's much prettier than in her pictures!" Jeffrey, my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson, went over to his grandma and said, "I are pretty too!" (She agreed he was, and he happily went back to playing.) Dad chuckled at the story.
Then Dad tried to tell me that he was "having trouble with . . . ," but he couldn't tell me what the problem was, at first not able to say the word, then saying something that was garbled, then not able to say the word. I never understood. I finally told him that the staff had mentioned they were giving him a pain pill, and maybe that was taking effect and making it hard for him to talk. He said, "Well, I hope so!" (I'm not sure if he meant he hoped the pain pill would help his problem or he hoped the pain pill was what was making it hard for him to express himself.)
As usual, Dad told me how good my voice sounded, I told him when I'd be visiting, and he sounded enthusiastic about the visit. We sent our love to each other, and that was the end of the visit.
I am looking forward to being able to see him in person!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you're getting some nice spring weather. We're finally getting some nicer weather here after a cold, rainy spring.
Sorry to be slow getting my blog done. Yesterday was an extra busy day: my granddaughter was blessed at church; we had my son-in-law's family visiting from out of town, and it was Easter!
My update is from a brief report from my sister Christie and a short conversation I had with Dad.
Christie spoke to Dad last week for about 10 minutes--quite a long conversation in my view. She reported that he was responsive and seemed to understand what she was saying.
I spoke to Dad this morning on the phone. The staff member I spoke to first said Dad hadn't gotten up for breakfast and was feeling some pain--no specifics--and that they were getting him a pain pill.
When we spoke, his voice sounded a bit slurred as it sometimes does when he first starts to talk, but he said he was "doing well, very well"--a bit more than he usually says.
I told him that my son-in-law, Michael, gave the baby a very nice blessing despite having such a busy day--he also played for choir practice before church and then had three choir numbers to play for after the blessing during church. (I got a stock answer from Dad, "Oh my.")
Then I told him that when Michael's mother saw the baby, she said, "Oh, she's beautiful! She's much prettier than in her pictures!" Jeffrey, my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson, went over to his grandma and said, "I are pretty too!" (She agreed he was, and he happily went back to playing.) Dad chuckled at the story.
Then Dad tried to tell me that he was "having trouble with . . . ," but he couldn't tell me what the problem was, at first not able to say the word, then saying something that was garbled, then not able to say the word. I never understood. I finally told him that the staff had mentioned they were giving him a pain pill, and maybe that was taking effect and making it hard for him to talk. He said, "Well, I hope so!" (I'm not sure if he meant he hoped the pain pill would help his problem or he hoped the pain pill was what was making it hard for him to express himself.)
As usual, Dad told me how good my voice sounded, I told him when I'd be visiting, and he sounded enthusiastic about the visit. We sent our love to each other, and that was the end of the visit.
I am looking forward to being able to see him in person!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you're getting some nice spring weather. We're finally getting some nicer weather here after a cold, rainy spring.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Update on Dad 4-10-11
Hello, Everyone,
I didn't realize until today that I'd missed a week on my blog--I'm so sorry! My cell phone keeps me on track these days, and for some reason it's lost my reminders to blog about Dad. I've put in a new reminder, so I should be back to blogging every other week again.
My report tonight comes from my brother-in-law Bob (Lucy's husband) who visits Dad weekly, a bit from my cousin who was visiting Dad tonight when I phoned, and my own short conversation with Dad.
Here's Bob's report from his visit to Dad on Mar 27:
"I visited Papa tonight - he was sound asleep; it took more than usual to wake him - he enjoyed looking at the photos of the new great grand child - he looked at them all for a long time and said that Alison will be happy to see these - I explained to him that you were living in PA with them - his response was, oh she is? - it was pretty sharp of him to figure out the connection with you and Evelyn and Christine and Jeffrey. Papa was pretty tired so my visit was short. He looked and sounded good."
My cousin Laurie (Skip) Craig was visiting Dad tonight when I phoned. He told me that Dad looked good and had gained weight since he'd seen him last. Skip told Dad he'd been on a diet of turnip greens because his wife's out of town visiting one of their children. Dad said he didn't like turnip greens, and Skip teased Dad that he wasn't a true Southerner if he didn't like them! I told Skip that Dad does like okra and enjoys the fried okra at Cracker Barrel--Skip said he enjoys it too. I'm glad that there's somewhere that Dad can get that taste of the South right in Springville.
Dad participated more in our conversation than usual. He began by telling me how good my voice sounded on the phone--as he tells me every time we talk. I reminded him that he has a new great grandbaby, and he said, "What's his name?" I told him the baby's a girl and that her name is a combination of my middle name and my son-in-law's mother's middle name, reminding Dad that I had been named for my two grandmothers also. He gave one of his stock responses, so I couldn't tell if he followed that explanation or not.
Dad started to end the conversation with me, saying, "Well, it's good to talk to you even for a minute or two," but I wanted to tell him about my grandson. I told him he's very interested in prepositions right now and says, "Am I in front of you, Oma? Are you behind me? Am I beside Baby Evelyn?" (She's never just Evelyn--she's always "Baby Evelyn.")Dad chuckled.
Then Dad said, "Are you going to be around here?" I told him I was coming in June, and he said, "Well I'll probably still be around here then." I told him that I hoped he would be, but that if he needed to go sooner, I'd understand.
I promised to send more pictures of the baby, we sent our love to each other, and said our goodbyes. It was great to have Dad interacting me. I think he was stimulated by his conversation with Skip. It made our talk much more enjoyable for me--a real conversation.
As always, thanks for reading!
I didn't realize until today that I'd missed a week on my blog--I'm so sorry! My cell phone keeps me on track these days, and for some reason it's lost my reminders to blog about Dad. I've put in a new reminder, so I should be back to blogging every other week again.
My report tonight comes from my brother-in-law Bob (Lucy's husband) who visits Dad weekly, a bit from my cousin who was visiting Dad tonight when I phoned, and my own short conversation with Dad.
Here's Bob's report from his visit to Dad on Mar 27:
"I visited Papa tonight - he was sound asleep; it took more than usual to wake him - he enjoyed looking at the photos of the new great grand child - he looked at them all for a long time and said that Alison will be happy to see these - I explained to him that you were living in PA with them - his response was, oh she is? - it was pretty sharp of him to figure out the connection with you and Evelyn and Christine and Jeffrey. Papa was pretty tired so my visit was short. He looked and sounded good."
My cousin Laurie (Skip) Craig was visiting Dad tonight when I phoned. He told me that Dad looked good and had gained weight since he'd seen him last. Skip told Dad he'd been on a diet of turnip greens because his wife's out of town visiting one of their children. Dad said he didn't like turnip greens, and Skip teased Dad that he wasn't a true Southerner if he didn't like them! I told Skip that Dad does like okra and enjoys the fried okra at Cracker Barrel--Skip said he enjoys it too. I'm glad that there's somewhere that Dad can get that taste of the South right in Springville.
Dad participated more in our conversation than usual. He began by telling me how good my voice sounded on the phone--as he tells me every time we talk. I reminded him that he has a new great grandbaby, and he said, "What's his name?" I told him the baby's a girl and that her name is a combination of my middle name and my son-in-law's mother's middle name, reminding Dad that I had been named for my two grandmothers also. He gave one of his stock responses, so I couldn't tell if he followed that explanation or not.
Dad started to end the conversation with me, saying, "Well, it's good to talk to you even for a minute or two," but I wanted to tell him about my grandson. I told him he's very interested in prepositions right now and says, "Am I in front of you, Oma? Are you behind me? Am I beside Baby Evelyn?" (She's never just Evelyn--she's always "Baby Evelyn.")Dad chuckled.
Then Dad said, "Are you going to be around here?" I told him I was coming in June, and he said, "Well I'll probably still be around here then." I told him that I hoped he would be, but that if he needed to go sooner, I'd understand.
I promised to send more pictures of the baby, we sent our love to each other, and said our goodbyes. It was great to have Dad interacting me. I think he was stimulated by his conversation with Skip. It made our talk much more enjoyable for me--a real conversation.
As always, thanks for reading!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Update on Dad 3-20-11
Hello, Everyone,
Tonight my update comes from my brother-in-law Bob (Lucy's husband) and from my own conversation with Dad tonight.
Bob reported to me that his visit with Dad last Sunday was short because Dad was so sleepy. But he noted that the week before, "he was much more awake." Bob continues, "I was talking about Alan and Jan going on a mission and that they were selling their cars and renting out their house and that they were thinking about selling their house and moving to Utah after their mission. I said to Dad that Alan has lived in Virginia for a long time--since Dad had retired--and Dad said since before he retired. Pretty amazing sometimes that he can remember some things and other times he can't remember at all."
Tonight when I spoke to Dad, I told him about his new great granddaughter, born last Sunday. I told him her weight (9 lbs. 4 ozs.) and her length (21 3/4"), that she was born one day before Mom's birthday, and that her name, Evelyn is my middle name and Michael's mother's middle name combined. He responded with several of his stock phrases, "Oh my," "how nice," "that's wonderful," so it was hard to tell how much he was following what I was telling him.
Then he said he'd like to see her, so I knew he was aware of what was going on. That made me happy! I told him Christine and Michael would be in Utah in June, so he could see her then. In the meantime, I'm hoping that Bob can print out some pictures of Evelyn to show Dad, so he can see her sooner.
Dad's voice sounded a bit rougher than usual, and I wondered if he was lying down and having a harder time talking that way. He told me with great enthusiasm how great it was to hear my voice--another of his gracious stock comments--but I thought again what a relief it must be for him to speak to someone he knows since he remembers so few people these days.
We each told the other, "I love you" and said our goodbyes. It was a good conversation.
Thanks for reading!
Alison
Tonight my update comes from my brother-in-law Bob (Lucy's husband) and from my own conversation with Dad tonight.
Bob reported to me that his visit with Dad last Sunday was short because Dad was so sleepy. But he noted that the week before, "he was much more awake." Bob continues, "I was talking about Alan and Jan going on a mission and that they were selling their cars and renting out their house and that they were thinking about selling their house and moving to Utah after their mission. I said to Dad that Alan has lived in Virginia for a long time--since Dad had retired--and Dad said since before he retired. Pretty amazing sometimes that he can remember some things and other times he can't remember at all."
Tonight when I spoke to Dad, I told him about his new great granddaughter, born last Sunday. I told him her weight (9 lbs. 4 ozs.) and her length (21 3/4"), that she was born one day before Mom's birthday, and that her name, Evelyn is my middle name and Michael's mother's middle name combined. He responded with several of his stock phrases, "Oh my," "how nice," "that's wonderful," so it was hard to tell how much he was following what I was telling him.
Then he said he'd like to see her, so I knew he was aware of what was going on. That made me happy! I told him Christine and Michael would be in Utah in June, so he could see her then. In the meantime, I'm hoping that Bob can print out some pictures of Evelyn to show Dad, so he can see her sooner.
Dad's voice sounded a bit rougher than usual, and I wondered if he was lying down and having a harder time talking that way. He told me with great enthusiasm how great it was to hear my voice--another of his gracious stock comments--but I thought again what a relief it must be for him to speak to someone he knows since he remembers so few people these days.
We each told the other, "I love you" and said our goodbyes. It was a good conversation.
Thanks for reading!
Alison
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Update on Dad 3-6-11
Hi, All,
Well, my daughter hasn't had her baby yet, so I'm able to update you a bit on Dad tonight. It'll be short tonight because I only have a brief report from my sister Lucy, an update from a nurse at the care facility and my own brief conversation with Dad.
Lucy sent out an email about Dad in late February:
"I went to see Dad today. He's now fallen three times, twice in one night. He's okay as far as the falls go, but he told them he fell because he was reaching for the sand, so something's wrong. They are checking him for a UTI [a urinary tract infection], which has made him confused in the past. He seems fine, and although he had refused to eat breakfast, he had eaten most of his lunch when I got there. I don't know whether you all know, but there's a man, Reuben, who comes to help his wife [eat her meals in the diningroom], and he has Dad sit by him, and he helps Dad eat too. He's very nice, and Dad seems happy to let Reuben help."
When I spoke to the nurse tonight, she said that Dad did have a UTI, and that he's on an antibiotic and hasn't fallen recently, that he's no longer confused or forgetful--I think she means within the limits of what he's usually able to remember these days. She says he doesn't always remember to use the call button--he never has--but that he calls out when he needs help. I'm pleased the nurse encourages him to call out, so they know when he needs help.
When I talked to Dad tonight, he seemed a bit more responsive than he's been recently. I told him that my daughter Christine hadn't had her baby yet (her due date was yesterday), but that she tried eating spicy foods for dinner tonight.
I asked if he remembered what Mom had done if she wanted a baby to come. He was quiet for a minute and then said, "I don't really remember"--a real response that wasn't just one of his stock phrases. I told him it had been a long time, so I wasn't surprised he didn't remember.
I told Dad about my grandson's comment to his mother in church last week. He was being noisy and defiant(do I hear someone saying two-and-a-half?). Christine told him that Jesus wants children to obey their mommas and daddies. "And Omas!" says Jeffrey. I told Dad that Jeffrey calls me Oma, and he laughed.
Dad told me that I sounded good on the phone, I told him I loved him and sent him love from Christine, Michael and Jeffrey. He said he loved me and sent love to them.
Then I realized I had another story I wanted to tell him: Jeffrey and I made a batch of my mom's granola recently--Christine's been craving it. I was pleased that Christine wanted some, and pleased that Jeffrey really likes it too! Dad's response wasn't as clear from this story, maybe, "Oh, uh-huh." But it was nice to be able to tell him about that recipe being handed down to another generation.
When I told him again that I loved him, he sent love to me and to the rest of the family. (A feat of memory to recall their message of love when I'd told him a story in between!)
I'm assuming the baby will be born in the next two weeks, so I'll plan to post again in two weeks. If I don't, you'll know we're still adjusting to our new baby.
Thanks as always for reading!
Alison
Well, my daughter hasn't had her baby yet, so I'm able to update you a bit on Dad tonight. It'll be short tonight because I only have a brief report from my sister Lucy, an update from a nurse at the care facility and my own brief conversation with Dad.
Lucy sent out an email about Dad in late February:
"I went to see Dad today. He's now fallen three times, twice in one night. He's okay as far as the falls go, but he told them he fell because he was reaching for the sand, so something's wrong. They are checking him for a UTI [a urinary tract infection], which has made him confused in the past. He seems fine, and although he had refused to eat breakfast, he had eaten most of his lunch when I got there. I don't know whether you all know, but there's a man, Reuben, who comes to help his wife [eat her meals in the diningroom], and he has Dad sit by him, and he helps Dad eat too. He's very nice, and Dad seems happy to let Reuben help."
When I spoke to the nurse tonight, she said that Dad did have a UTI, and that he's on an antibiotic and hasn't fallen recently, that he's no longer confused or forgetful--I think she means within the limits of what he's usually able to remember these days. She says he doesn't always remember to use the call button--he never has--but that he calls out when he needs help. I'm pleased the nurse encourages him to call out, so they know when he needs help.
When I talked to Dad tonight, he seemed a bit more responsive than he's been recently. I told him that my daughter Christine hadn't had her baby yet (her due date was yesterday), but that she tried eating spicy foods for dinner tonight.
I asked if he remembered what Mom had done if she wanted a baby to come. He was quiet for a minute and then said, "I don't really remember"--a real response that wasn't just one of his stock phrases. I told him it had been a long time, so I wasn't surprised he didn't remember.
I told Dad about my grandson's comment to his mother in church last week. He was being noisy and defiant(do I hear someone saying two-and-a-half?). Christine told him that Jesus wants children to obey their mommas and daddies. "And Omas!" says Jeffrey. I told Dad that Jeffrey calls me Oma, and he laughed.
Dad told me that I sounded good on the phone, I told him I loved him and sent him love from Christine, Michael and Jeffrey. He said he loved me and sent love to them.
Then I realized I had another story I wanted to tell him: Jeffrey and I made a batch of my mom's granola recently--Christine's been craving it. I was pleased that Christine wanted some, and pleased that Jeffrey really likes it too! Dad's response wasn't as clear from this story, maybe, "Oh, uh-huh." But it was nice to be able to tell him about that recipe being handed down to another generation.
When I told him again that I loved him, he sent love to me and to the rest of the family. (A feat of memory to recall their message of love when I'd told him a story in between!)
I'm assuming the baby will be born in the next two weeks, so I'll plan to post again in two weeks. If I don't, you'll know we're still adjusting to our new baby.
Thanks as always for reading!
Alison
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Update on Dad 2-20-11
Hello, Everyone,
When I logged on to begin my blog tonight, I saw how many posts there are on the site--49, so this is the 50th post on my blog about Dad! (Do we need to have a 50% off sale to mark the event?)
I have information about Dad from my brother Alan who visited in early February, a brief report from my brother-in-law Bob who visited Dad tonight, and I spoke to Dad briefly on the phone tonight also.
Here's what Alan wrote--before he left for Utah:
"I spoke to my Dad on the phone last night. My brother-in-law Bob was there visiting and called me so I could talk to him. I think much of what he says to us is a set of stock phrases, but he does respond to you and seems to enjoy having you tell him things. Several family members have commented that he is losing weight and so every time I get to see him I wonder if it will be the last time. Of course, he has surprised all of us and stayed around for much longer than we expected, so he may well continue to do it. I remember my Mother going to England when I was a senior in college knowing that her mother likely wouldn’t live though the year, but my grandmother was much more aware of things at that point in her life. If Dad lives until we go [Alan and his wife are leaving for a mission to Brazil in late August], he is unlikely to make it until we return, but he also is unlikely to remember that I’m off somewhere."
After Alan returned from his trip to Utah, he wrote about visiting Dad while he was in town:
"I got in three visits to see my Dad, the first one on Tuesday . . . , one on Thursday in conjunction with a trip to Orem to see Janice’s Dad, . . . and one yesterday when I drove down and met my sister Martha at the nursing home. He’s in a new room . . . , and while I didn’t see the prior room and can’t comment on the issues there were with it, this setup seemed quite workable. Dad certainly didn’t seem distressed at all and there was enough space for an easy visit for a couple of people. In some ways it actually seems better than where he was before [at the other care facility]. This room doesn’t have a wall to post pictures, but it has a window right behind Dad and it seems a much brighter room because of it."
My brother-in-law Bob, Lucy's husband, visits Dad on Sunday nights after he finishes working at the Springville Art Museum. He phoned me tonight after he left and said that he and Lucy are much happier with the new room he's in and glad that the care facility was able to find a better solution. Bob also mentioned that it's much brighter in the morning because of the window; it's also quieter; there's room for Dad's easy chair and ottoman and there's another chair for visitors.
I also spoke to Dad tonight. When I told him who I was, he said, "Where are you?"--as if it was strange that I wasn't there with him. I told him I was in Pennsylvania--this is something he came back to later in the conversation, so I was pleased that his memory was working that well.
I told him that when my daughter and son-in-law went out for Valentine's Day, my grandson was pretty sad, so I decided we'd do something Dad did for us when we were little--make pancakes that were in the shape of animals--bunnies, cats, etc. When I asked Dad if he remembered making them, he said, "Oh, yes!"
I said the batter wasn't thick enough, so my animals tended to run and not look like they were supposed to, but Jeffrey was imaginative about deciding what the shapes looked like, and he cheered up. I felt like Dad chuckled because he took his cue from me--I was chuckling.
I then told him that someone in our ward who's studying acting is going to be in a production of The Beaux' Strategem. (This play is by the playwright that Dad did his doctoral dissertation on.) He said, "Oh, my"--one of his stock phrases, so I wasn't sure if he was following what I was saying. I told Dad that I'd mentioned to the actor that my father wrote his dissertation on George Farquhar. I also told Dad I thought maybe I needed to warn ward members that Farquhar's plays could be a bit spicy! He chuckled at that too. I think because he was getting the joke--or at least knowing the place to laugh at the punch line!
(This reminds me of a story Dad used to tell about a friend (I think from high school) who was very bad at telling jokes because she would start laughing at the joke and not be intelligible by the time she got to the punch line. So she would hold up her finger when she got to the punch line, and everyone would laugh. Dad still knows when it's time to laugh!)
During our conversation, Dad told me my voice sounded good--another of his gracious stock phrases.
Then Dad said to me, "You do what you have to do, and . . ." He wasn't able to complete his thought, but then he said, "Now where is it you're going?" I told him I was in central Pennsylvania where Christine and Michael are going to school, and I mentioned again that Christine's baby is due soon and said, "So I really am needed here."
He said something like, "Well, okay then." I cried because I felt like we finally were able to have a conversation about my leaving, and that he gave me his blessing. He hasn't been aware enough to understand that we had to put him in a care facility because it became too much for us to care for him at home, and he hasn't been aware that I moved away. I don't know that he'll remember our conversation, but I will, and I feel such love for him and gratitude that he's willing to sacrifice his own comfort for me to do what's best for me--that's my Dad!
Dad and I ended our conversation as always by expressing our love to each other.
I think I said in my last post that my next one may not be right on time--Christine's baby is due on March 5, and if the baby comes close to her due date, I may not be able to post next time, but I'll try to get something up as soon as I can.
Thanks for reading and for caring about Dad.
Alison
When I logged on to begin my blog tonight, I saw how many posts there are on the site--49, so this is the 50th post on my blog about Dad! (Do we need to have a 50% off sale to mark the event?)
I have information about Dad from my brother Alan who visited in early February, a brief report from my brother-in-law Bob who visited Dad tonight, and I spoke to Dad briefly on the phone tonight also.
Here's what Alan wrote--before he left for Utah:
"I spoke to my Dad on the phone last night. My brother-in-law Bob was there visiting and called me so I could talk to him. I think much of what he says to us is a set of stock phrases, but he does respond to you and seems to enjoy having you tell him things. Several family members have commented that he is losing weight and so every time I get to see him I wonder if it will be the last time. Of course, he has surprised all of us and stayed around for much longer than we expected, so he may well continue to do it. I remember my Mother going to England when I was a senior in college knowing that her mother likely wouldn’t live though the year, but my grandmother was much more aware of things at that point in her life. If Dad lives until we go [Alan and his wife are leaving for a mission to Brazil in late August], he is unlikely to make it until we return, but he also is unlikely to remember that I’m off somewhere."
After Alan returned from his trip to Utah, he wrote about visiting Dad while he was in town:
"I got in three visits to see my Dad, the first one on Tuesday . . . , one on Thursday in conjunction with a trip to Orem to see Janice’s Dad, . . . and one yesterday when I drove down and met my sister Martha at the nursing home. He’s in a new room . . . , and while I didn’t see the prior room and can’t comment on the issues there were with it, this setup seemed quite workable. Dad certainly didn’t seem distressed at all and there was enough space for an easy visit for a couple of people. In some ways it actually seems better than where he was before [at the other care facility]. This room doesn’t have a wall to post pictures, but it has a window right behind Dad and it seems a much brighter room because of it."
My brother-in-law Bob, Lucy's husband, visits Dad on Sunday nights after he finishes working at the Springville Art Museum. He phoned me tonight after he left and said that he and Lucy are much happier with the new room he's in and glad that the care facility was able to find a better solution. Bob also mentioned that it's much brighter in the morning because of the window; it's also quieter; there's room for Dad's easy chair and ottoman and there's another chair for visitors.
I also spoke to Dad tonight. When I told him who I was, he said, "Where are you?"--as if it was strange that I wasn't there with him. I told him I was in Pennsylvania--this is something he came back to later in the conversation, so I was pleased that his memory was working that well.
I told him that when my daughter and son-in-law went out for Valentine's Day, my grandson was pretty sad, so I decided we'd do something Dad did for us when we were little--make pancakes that were in the shape of animals--bunnies, cats, etc. When I asked Dad if he remembered making them, he said, "Oh, yes!"
I said the batter wasn't thick enough, so my animals tended to run and not look like they were supposed to, but Jeffrey was imaginative about deciding what the shapes looked like, and he cheered up. I felt like Dad chuckled because he took his cue from me--I was chuckling.
I then told him that someone in our ward who's studying acting is going to be in a production of The Beaux' Strategem. (This play is by the playwright that Dad did his doctoral dissertation on.) He said, "Oh, my"--one of his stock phrases, so I wasn't sure if he was following what I was saying. I told Dad that I'd mentioned to the actor that my father wrote his dissertation on George Farquhar. I also told Dad I thought maybe I needed to warn ward members that Farquhar's plays could be a bit spicy! He chuckled at that too. I think because he was getting the joke--or at least knowing the place to laugh at the punch line!
(This reminds me of a story Dad used to tell about a friend (I think from high school) who was very bad at telling jokes because she would start laughing at the joke and not be intelligible by the time she got to the punch line. So she would hold up her finger when she got to the punch line, and everyone would laugh. Dad still knows when it's time to laugh!)
During our conversation, Dad told me my voice sounded good--another of his gracious stock phrases.
Then Dad said to me, "You do what you have to do, and . . ." He wasn't able to complete his thought, but then he said, "Now where is it you're going?" I told him I was in central Pennsylvania where Christine and Michael are going to school, and I mentioned again that Christine's baby is due soon and said, "So I really am needed here."
He said something like, "Well, okay then." I cried because I felt like we finally were able to have a conversation about my leaving, and that he gave me his blessing. He hasn't been aware enough to understand that we had to put him in a care facility because it became too much for us to care for him at home, and he hasn't been aware that I moved away. I don't know that he'll remember our conversation, but I will, and I feel such love for him and gratitude that he's willing to sacrifice his own comfort for me to do what's best for me--that's my Dad!
Dad and I ended our conversation as always by expressing our love to each other.
I think I said in my last post that my next one may not be right on time--Christine's baby is due on March 5, and if the baby comes close to her due date, I may not be able to post next time, but I'll try to get something up as soon as I can.
Thanks for reading and for caring about Dad.
Alison
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Update on Dad 2-6-11
Greetings, Everybody,
I wasn't able to talk to Dad tonight, but I have a number of reports about him from others that have visited Dad recently--as well as a tribute to Dad by his cousin Bill Craig that he's given me permission to post.
First I'll give you a report from my sister Martha on what they've done at the care facility to improve his situation there:
"[The Art City care facility] moved [Dad] [the day after they spoke about problems with his room] to a different room, where he has much more space, an attached bathroom, and not an around-the-clock TV. The TV in the other room didn't seem to bother him, but it was very hard for his visitors to have a conversation, and the patient watching his huge TV felt invaded when there were several of us there. The man across the room from him now has a small TV, but it is not on all the time, is close to him, and the sound is not loud. There is plenty of space now for several visitors. They tell me that the room is monitored frequently because the others in his room are also fall risks.
"[Martha's daughter]Emily and I were there last Friday at dinner, and the food was so slow coming that he had more interest in going back to bed than in eating. The administrator and the head nurse were both there during the time patients were waiting, and saying they had to find a better solution in their training meeting the next day. It has also seemed bad to me that Dad has been at a table with others who need help eating, but some of them are very vocal about not wanting to eat and have to be coaxed. It just hasn't seemed to be an appetizing situation for one who has little appetite anyway.
"They have worked out a new seating chart and will have Dad at a table right near the entrance to the dining room. He will sit by a woman whose husband is always there at meals, and who has gotten Dad to talk a number of times. He will encourage Dad to eat, and help out if necessary. The table will also be visible from where the nurses are just outside the door, preparing evening meds for the patients. They can see whether he is eating well or not and get him more help if needed."
In addition to this information that Martha sent, she and I talked last night, and she told me that recently she visited Dad at lunch time. With her help, he "ate every bite of his lunch." She said that the new seating arrangement in the dining room seems to be working out well. The husband who is there with his wife says Dad does great at eating now--likely not every bite, but a good amount at meals.
Martha also mentioned that our brother Alan was in town for his granddaughter's baptism, and he visited with Dad, showing him pictures of the family gathering. Martha thought Dad clearly knew who Alan was and enjoyed the visit. I'm sure I'll have more to report from Alan himself. He's very faithful about keeping us informed of all that's going on with him and his family.
I also have a report from my brother John about the new room at the care facility:
"I went to see Dad last night and the new arrangement is definitely better. He still doesn't have a way to have the radio next to his bed (something he was enjoying at Hobble Creek--at least from time to time), so I think it might be worth trying to figure that out. We'd need something to put it on and a way to get power to it--unless there's a plug on the other side of the bed from where I was.
"[John's daughter and son-in-law] Lisa and Court came while I was there (by pre-arrangement) and we had a good visit. (A couple of folding chairs wouldn't be a bad idea.) It was well after dinner when we got there, but Dad was awake (and my going in awakened one of the others in the room). The third guy in the room was moving around on his bed and setting off his "don't try to get up" alarm--which did not seem restful for Dad; not sure if that's something that would be typical or not. But, we had a good visit and Dad said he was warm enough and was comfortable--although he was putting his hands back under the covers right after getting them out to gesture or shake hands."
Based on what Art City has done to improve Dad's situation, Martha tells me that they've dropped plans to move Dad to another facility.
My sister Lucy's husband, Bob, was chatting with my daughter online recently and sent this report about Dad:
"Papa Daddy was looking pretty good this evening - he ate all his dinner - enjoyed visiting with me - talked with [our brother] Alan on my phone - seems to be getting more sleep in his new room - although he identified the photograph of your Grandmother (Ruth Craig) as his mother to the CNA who was helping him while I was there tonight - he laughed at the photo of him in his office at BYU - after all of that he called me by name and told me to be careful on my way home."
The photo Bob says that Dad laughed at is the picture from Elouise Bell that I put up on the blog last time. Thank you, Elouise! I'm so pleased Bob thought to show it to him--I don't know that I would have.
I recently received this tribute to Dad from a cousin, Bill Craig, who Dad reconnected with in the last ten years:
"We Craigs should be very proud of Marshall's achievements . . . as far as I know he is the only one who has received a Ph.D. Considering his humble beginning, that is a very significant accomplishment. One of my regrets is that I was never around Marshall very much. I do remember that he and Ruth came by our house when he was on leave from the Navy during WW II, and I saw him, just to speak to him, at Laurie's [Dad's brother's] burial out on Champagnolle Road near El Dorado. His military service, his long tenure at BYU and his dedication to his family make him a very special person in my eyes."
Bill ends by mentioning the "good support he has from his family."
Although I know Dad would make some self-deprecating joke about Bill's praise, Bill's right. I forget until I read Bill's tribute just what humble beginnings Dad came from and what wonderful things he's done in his life.
For some reason, I'm feeling pretty emotional about Dad today, missing him and feeling so much love for him.
As always, we appreciate all of you who also love Dad and care about him. Thanks for those who let me know you're reading.
I plan on reporting in again in two weeks, but my daughter is due on March 5, so for the next month or so, I may not be able to report right on schedule depending on when my granddaughter decides to arrive.
Love to all,
Alison
I wasn't able to talk to Dad tonight, but I have a number of reports about him from others that have visited Dad recently--as well as a tribute to Dad by his cousin Bill Craig that he's given me permission to post.
First I'll give you a report from my sister Martha on what they've done at the care facility to improve his situation there:
"[The Art City care facility] moved [Dad] [the day after they spoke about problems with his room] to a different room, where he has much more space, an attached bathroom, and not an around-the-clock TV. The TV in the other room didn't seem to bother him, but it was very hard for his visitors to have a conversation, and the patient watching his huge TV felt invaded when there were several of us there. The man across the room from him now has a small TV, but it is not on all the time, is close to him, and the sound is not loud. There is plenty of space now for several visitors. They tell me that the room is monitored frequently because the others in his room are also fall risks.
"[Martha's daughter]Emily and I were there last Friday at dinner, and the food was so slow coming that he had more interest in going back to bed than in eating. The administrator and the head nurse were both there during the time patients were waiting, and saying they had to find a better solution in their training meeting the next day. It has also seemed bad to me that Dad has been at a table with others who need help eating, but some of them are very vocal about not wanting to eat and have to be coaxed. It just hasn't seemed to be an appetizing situation for one who has little appetite anyway.
"They have worked out a new seating chart and will have Dad at a table right near the entrance to the dining room. He will sit by a woman whose husband is always there at meals, and who has gotten Dad to talk a number of times. He will encourage Dad to eat, and help out if necessary. The table will also be visible from where the nurses are just outside the door, preparing evening meds for the patients. They can see whether he is eating well or not and get him more help if needed."
In addition to this information that Martha sent, she and I talked last night, and she told me that recently she visited Dad at lunch time. With her help, he "ate every bite of his lunch." She said that the new seating arrangement in the dining room seems to be working out well. The husband who is there with his wife says Dad does great at eating now--likely not every bite, but a good amount at meals.
Martha also mentioned that our brother Alan was in town for his granddaughter's baptism, and he visited with Dad, showing him pictures of the family gathering. Martha thought Dad clearly knew who Alan was and enjoyed the visit. I'm sure I'll have more to report from Alan himself. He's very faithful about keeping us informed of all that's going on with him and his family.
I also have a report from my brother John about the new room at the care facility:
"I went to see Dad last night and the new arrangement is definitely better. He still doesn't have a way to have the radio next to his bed (something he was enjoying at Hobble Creek--at least from time to time), so I think it might be worth trying to figure that out. We'd need something to put it on and a way to get power to it--unless there's a plug on the other side of the bed from where I was.
"[John's daughter and son-in-law] Lisa and Court came while I was there (by pre-arrangement) and we had a good visit. (A couple of folding chairs wouldn't be a bad idea.) It was well after dinner when we got there, but Dad was awake (and my going in awakened one of the others in the room). The third guy in the room was moving around on his bed and setting off his "don't try to get up" alarm--which did not seem restful for Dad; not sure if that's something that would be typical or not. But, we had a good visit and Dad said he was warm enough and was comfortable--although he was putting his hands back under the covers right after getting them out to gesture or shake hands."
Based on what Art City has done to improve Dad's situation, Martha tells me that they've dropped plans to move Dad to another facility.
My sister Lucy's husband, Bob, was chatting with my daughter online recently and sent this report about Dad:
"Papa Daddy was looking pretty good this evening - he ate all his dinner - enjoyed visiting with me - talked with [our brother] Alan on my phone - seems to be getting more sleep in his new room - although he identified the photograph of your Grandmother (Ruth Craig) as his mother to the CNA who was helping him while I was there tonight - he laughed at the photo of him in his office at BYU - after all of that he called me by name and told me to be careful on my way home."
The photo Bob says that Dad laughed at is the picture from Elouise Bell that I put up on the blog last time. Thank you, Elouise! I'm so pleased Bob thought to show it to him--I don't know that I would have.
I recently received this tribute to Dad from a cousin, Bill Craig, who Dad reconnected with in the last ten years:
"We Craigs should be very proud of Marshall's achievements . . . as far as I know he is the only one who has received a Ph.D. Considering his humble beginning, that is a very significant accomplishment. One of my regrets is that I was never around Marshall very much. I do remember that he and Ruth came by our house when he was on leave from the Navy during WW II, and I saw him, just to speak to him, at Laurie's [Dad's brother's] burial out on Champagnolle Road near El Dorado. His military service, his long tenure at BYU and his dedication to his family make him a very special person in my eyes."
Bill ends by mentioning the "good support he has from his family."
Although I know Dad would make some self-deprecating joke about Bill's praise, Bill's right. I forget until I read Bill's tribute just what humble beginnings Dad came from and what wonderful things he's done in his life.
For some reason, I'm feeling pretty emotional about Dad today, missing him and feeling so much love for him.
As always, we appreciate all of you who also love Dad and care about him. Thanks for those who let me know you're reading.
I plan on reporting in again in two weeks, but my daughter is due on March 5, so for the next month or so, I may not be able to report right on schedule depending on when my granddaughter decides to arrive.
Love to all,
Alison
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Update on Dad 1-23-11
Hello Everyone,
This week's report comes from a conversation with my sister Christie who's been in Utah recently, and my conversation with Dad tonight. I also have a digital copy of Elouise Bell's favorite photo of Dad, and it made me think of a creative writing assignment I wrote when I was a freshman in Elouise's class!
Christie told me that she and Martha and Lucy visited a care facility in Spanish Fork that they liked and where they may move Dad, but the current facility has asked for time to fix the problems there. I think I've mentioned before that Dad's in a room with two other people, and the one person actually takes up about two-thirds of the room, and he watches TV incessantly. There isn't room to sit and visit with Dad, and there's been a concern that Dad isn't getting enough help with meals there. Apparently the current facility is going to move Dad into another room. (I should have thought to ask if they've already moved him when I called.) The new room will also have three people, but it should be quieter. I'm assuming there will be more room for people to visit with Dad, but I can't remember if Christie said anything about that or not. I'll keep you posted about where Dad is, but if you go to visit Dad and he's not in his usual room, ask where they've moved him.
I spoke to Dad tonight for a few minutes. I told him how cold it's been here and how many layers I'd put on yesterday before going outside--tights, long johns, jeans, two pair of wool socks, two shirts, and hoodie, a jacket with a hood and scarf, and heavy mittens. I didn't get much reaction to that--maybe an "Oh my."
I did get a chuckle from Dad when I told him about the new book I got Jeffrey. It's an ABC book, and some of the letters have a picture hidden behind a flap. Jeffrey immediately learned the names of all the animals under the flaps. For "I," it's iguana, which he pronounces "wee-guana." He'd open the flap, we'd talk about the picture, and then he'd close it and say, "Where's the wee-guana?" I'd say, "I don't know--where is the iguana?" Then Jeffrey would open the flap and say, "There's the wee-guana!" Then he'd close the flap and ask again--maybe ten times in a row--such a fun game!
Dad told me several times that my voice sounded good. When I told him that Christine, Michael, and Jeffrey sent their love, he said, "Oh, that's good." We sent each other our love and said goodbye.
Now for the picture of Dad. Elouise Bell, Dad's colleague in the English Department and dear friend, sent a copy of this picture to my brother Alan who digitized it and "cleaned it up." This is Elouise's favorite picture of Dad, and I can see why. Alan says, "Elouise said [the picture] was 50 years old, but based on Dad’s hairline and the amount of gray, I’d say that it isn’t that old. More likely in the 25 to 30 range. I have a picture of Dad from the airport when I left on my mission that’s not quite 44 years ago, and he is clearly younger."
This picture makes me think of how much Dad loved teaching and his colleagues in the English Department. It also reminds me of an assignment I wrote for Elouise's creative writing class: write a description of a place or a thing that reveals something about the owner.
I was typing up my assignment, and Dad walked by and looked over my shoulder. I said, "Don't look! Don't look!" and tried to hide what I'd written. A bit later he came back and said, "You're describing my desk, aren't you?" His desk looks amazingly clean in this photo; when he was department chair, it was much messier. I remember describing an old copy of a campus newspaper that was hanging off the desk, just the corner held down by the piles of papers on top of it. I told Christine about the assignment and said I wasn't sure that my description actually revealed anything about Dad, but it was fun to write, and Dad (in typical fashion) wasn't disturbed that I was writing about his messy desk.
Well, that's all for this entry. Thanks for reading, everyone, and thanks for letting me know you're reading.
This week's report comes from a conversation with my sister Christie who's been in Utah recently, and my conversation with Dad tonight. I also have a digital copy of Elouise Bell's favorite photo of Dad, and it made me think of a creative writing assignment I wrote when I was a freshman in Elouise's class!
Christie told me that she and Martha and Lucy visited a care facility in Spanish Fork that they liked and where they may move Dad, but the current facility has asked for time to fix the problems there. I think I've mentioned before that Dad's in a room with two other people, and the one person actually takes up about two-thirds of the room, and he watches TV incessantly. There isn't room to sit and visit with Dad, and there's been a concern that Dad isn't getting enough help with meals there. Apparently the current facility is going to move Dad into another room. (I should have thought to ask if they've already moved him when I called.) The new room will also have three people, but it should be quieter. I'm assuming there will be more room for people to visit with Dad, but I can't remember if Christie said anything about that or not. I'll keep you posted about where Dad is, but if you go to visit Dad and he's not in his usual room, ask where they've moved him.
I spoke to Dad tonight for a few minutes. I told him how cold it's been here and how many layers I'd put on yesterday before going outside--tights, long johns, jeans, two pair of wool socks, two shirts, and hoodie, a jacket with a hood and scarf, and heavy mittens. I didn't get much reaction to that--maybe an "Oh my."
I did get a chuckle from Dad when I told him about the new book I got Jeffrey. It's an ABC book, and some of the letters have a picture hidden behind a flap. Jeffrey immediately learned the names of all the animals under the flaps. For "I," it's iguana, which he pronounces "wee-guana." He'd open the flap, we'd talk about the picture, and then he'd close it and say, "Where's the wee-guana?" I'd say, "I don't know--where is the iguana?" Then Jeffrey would open the flap and say, "There's the wee-guana!" Then he'd close the flap and ask again--maybe ten times in a row--such a fun game!
Dad told me several times that my voice sounded good. When I told him that Christine, Michael, and Jeffrey sent their love, he said, "Oh, that's good." We sent each other our love and said goodbye.
Now for the picture of Dad. Elouise Bell, Dad's colleague in the English Department and dear friend, sent a copy of this picture to my brother Alan who digitized it and "cleaned it up." This is Elouise's favorite picture of Dad, and I can see why. Alan says, "Elouise said [the picture] was 50 years old, but based on Dad’s hairline and the amount of gray, I’d say that it isn’t that old. More likely in the 25 to 30 range. I have a picture of Dad from the airport when I left on my mission that’s not quite 44 years ago, and he is clearly younger."
I was typing up my assignment, and Dad walked by and looked over my shoulder. I said, "Don't look! Don't look!" and tried to hide what I'd written. A bit later he came back and said, "You're describing my desk, aren't you?" His desk looks amazingly clean in this photo; when he was department chair, it was much messier. I remember describing an old copy of a campus newspaper that was hanging off the desk, just the corner held down by the piles of papers on top of it. I told Christine about the assignment and said I wasn't sure that my description actually revealed anything about Dad, but it was fun to write, and Dad (in typical fashion) wasn't disturbed that I was writing about his messy desk.
Well, that's all for this entry. Thanks for reading, everyone, and thanks for letting me know you're reading.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Another visit with Dad 1-9-11
Hello, Everybody,
Tonight my report comes from another visit I had with Dad while I was in Utah and from a report from my niece Ruth Seppi Hamilton who also visited Dad while she was in Utah recently.
I visited Dad again before leaving Utah--I'd hoped to visit more, but I was sick a lot of the time I was there, so I only managed one other visit.
I went with my sister Christie, and we found Dad in the dining room when we got there, waiting for lunch to be served. I walked up behind him on one side and said, "Hi, Dad," without identifying myself. Dad looked at me and seemed a bit puzzled. Christie walked up on the other side and said, "Hi, Dad, it's Christie, and I'm here with Alison." At that point, Dad clearly recognized both of us, saying something like, "It's wonderful to see you both!"
We chatted with Dad for a bit--each of us told him a story or two, and then he had to go to the bathroom. When he came back to the table, he told Christie that he'd heard her talking and recognized her voice--he was so pleased! (I haven't really thought before about what it must be like to not recognize the people around you.) A bit later, Dad said to us, "Having you both here is . . ." and then couldn't find the words to express himself. He gave us two thumbs up instead, and Christie said, "You're really glad we're both here," and Dad said, "Yes."
After we each talked directly to Dad for a little while, Christie and I began talking to each other, including Dad with looks and comments. From then on, Dad seemed to relax and enjoy us being there without feeling he had to add much to the conversation.
He ate very little of his meal, so I began giving him bites of food. He ate all of his dessert but only about a quarter of the rest of his meal. I kept feeding him bites until he was full. Both Christie and I thought he wouldn't have eaten much at all if we hadn't been there to feed him.
I'm actually of two minds about feeding him. My friend Barbara, the home health and hospice nurse, has explained to me that loss of appetite is a painless and natural part of the dying process. She doesn't recommend insisting on feeding elderly people who lose their appetites because that simply prolongs the dying process. I see her point, and at the same time, I'm so used to feeding Dad that I did it without thinking.
After Dad was done eating, we took him back to his room. An aide helped me get Dad into bed, so for maybe a minute or so, he was facing away from us. When he was facing us again, he looked startled and said, "Oh my!" I think that during that minute when he wasn't facing us, he'd forgotten we were there.
I cried when we said goodbye, sure that I wouldn't be able to see him again while I was in Utah, and uncertain whether I'd see him again in this life. I also cried because even while he remains our loving father, he's slipping further away from us. It's painful to be confronted by that, and it's more apparent now that I see him only every few months.
Christie's daughter Ruth also visited Dad while she was in Utah. She told me that it was hard for her to see that Dad's less able to participate in a conversation. Ruth said she's used to having to have stories ready to tell, but he was less responsive to the stories. She didn't think Dad knew who she was, though he clearly knew Christie who came with her. Ruth also took her fourteen-month-old daughter when she visited, and Ruth said Dad and Eliana had a fun time together. Christie would "fly" Eliana over by Dad, and he'd point his finger at her and go "psst, psst, psst," and they'd laugh together. (If you've seen my dad around babies in the last 40 years or so, you can probably picture the two of them having a grand time together.) Ruth said that she didn't think Dad or Eliana would remember the visit, but it was important to Ruth for them to meet.
Since Dad had so many visitors over Christmas, some of the problems with his room at the new facility stood out more clearly. It's hard to visit him there because his part of the room is so small that there really isn't room for visitors especially when more than one person is visiting. Also, his roommate watches TV all day long, making it hard to carry on a conversation. My sister Martha is going to look into a facility in Payson that's near my sister Lucy and her husband, Bob. I'll keep you posted on whether we decide to move Dad again.
Thanks to all of you who care about Dad, and may you all have a happy new year!
Tonight my report comes from another visit I had with Dad while I was in Utah and from a report from my niece Ruth Seppi Hamilton who also visited Dad while she was in Utah recently.
I visited Dad again before leaving Utah--I'd hoped to visit more, but I was sick a lot of the time I was there, so I only managed one other visit.
I went with my sister Christie, and we found Dad in the dining room when we got there, waiting for lunch to be served. I walked up behind him on one side and said, "Hi, Dad," without identifying myself. Dad looked at me and seemed a bit puzzled. Christie walked up on the other side and said, "Hi, Dad, it's Christie, and I'm here with Alison." At that point, Dad clearly recognized both of us, saying something like, "It's wonderful to see you both!"
We chatted with Dad for a bit--each of us told him a story or two, and then he had to go to the bathroom. When he came back to the table, he told Christie that he'd heard her talking and recognized her voice--he was so pleased! (I haven't really thought before about what it must be like to not recognize the people around you.) A bit later, Dad said to us, "Having you both here is . . ." and then couldn't find the words to express himself. He gave us two thumbs up instead, and Christie said, "You're really glad we're both here," and Dad said, "Yes."
After we each talked directly to Dad for a little while, Christie and I began talking to each other, including Dad with looks and comments. From then on, Dad seemed to relax and enjoy us being there without feeling he had to add much to the conversation.
He ate very little of his meal, so I began giving him bites of food. He ate all of his dessert but only about a quarter of the rest of his meal. I kept feeding him bites until he was full. Both Christie and I thought he wouldn't have eaten much at all if we hadn't been there to feed him.
I'm actually of two minds about feeding him. My friend Barbara, the home health and hospice nurse, has explained to me that loss of appetite is a painless and natural part of the dying process. She doesn't recommend insisting on feeding elderly people who lose their appetites because that simply prolongs the dying process. I see her point, and at the same time, I'm so used to feeding Dad that I did it without thinking.
After Dad was done eating, we took him back to his room. An aide helped me get Dad into bed, so for maybe a minute or so, he was facing away from us. When he was facing us again, he looked startled and said, "Oh my!" I think that during that minute when he wasn't facing us, he'd forgotten we were there.
I cried when we said goodbye, sure that I wouldn't be able to see him again while I was in Utah, and uncertain whether I'd see him again in this life. I also cried because even while he remains our loving father, he's slipping further away from us. It's painful to be confronted by that, and it's more apparent now that I see him only every few months.
Christie's daughter Ruth also visited Dad while she was in Utah. She told me that it was hard for her to see that Dad's less able to participate in a conversation. Ruth said she's used to having to have stories ready to tell, but he was less responsive to the stories. She didn't think Dad knew who she was, though he clearly knew Christie who came with her. Ruth also took her fourteen-month-old daughter when she visited, and Ruth said Dad and Eliana had a fun time together. Christie would "fly" Eliana over by Dad, and he'd point his finger at her and go "psst, psst, psst," and they'd laugh together. (If you've seen my dad around babies in the last 40 years or so, you can probably picture the two of them having a grand time together.) Ruth said that she didn't think Dad or Eliana would remember the visit, but it was important to Ruth for them to meet.
Since Dad had so many visitors over Christmas, some of the problems with his room at the new facility stood out more clearly. It's hard to visit him there because his part of the room is so small that there really isn't room for visitors especially when more than one person is visiting. Also, his roommate watches TV all day long, making it hard to carry on a conversation. My sister Martha is going to look into a facility in Payson that's near my sister Lucy and her husband, Bob. I'll keep you posted on whether we decide to move Dad again.
Thanks to all of you who care about Dad, and may you all have a happy new year!
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