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.
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