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.

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