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!

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!