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

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.

 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!)

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. 

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.

Thanks for reading!

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!

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!

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.