Nothing much to talk about anymore

Friday was one of those visits that left me feeling very happy and very sad. I arrived just after lunch and he was sitting out in the hall in his wheelchair with his head down as usual. I approached from his back and put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Hi Papa! How's my dad?" He reacted with vigor. "Linda? Is that you Linda?" he asked without picking up his head to actually look at me. I started talking to him about the big news about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. He was aware of it but hadn't seen any of the dramatic photos that were being shown already. I put my laptop on his bed and brought up some pictures on Yahoo news and Google news. He was very interested. "Those poor damn people don't need another nuclear Holocaust!" He was indignant that this should happen to these nice people.

One of the nurses came into the room. I hadn't seen her in about 3 months since she went out on maternity leave. I was so happy to see her. I engaged in conversation asking about her baby, and her leave. She was very forthcoming, maternal pride showing when she told us how good the baby girl was. When she left, my dad said something to me that he had never said before. He actually said I had a good personality. Many times he has rebuked me for being too talkative. He has reproached me for being negative. He has called me a "glass half full person". I have never had him praise me like he did Friday. I think it shows how grateful he is to have me come and see him, relieving him of his loneliness and boredom.

The two of us didn't talk about much. I let him put on the headphones and watch old TV programs on youtube. He watched Groucho Marx and Life of Riley. I also had a couple of videos that my friend sent to me showing a man in the cage with a lioness and her cubs. It was remarkable to see that great big pussy cat wanting to be petted and wanting to lay down on his lap the way my kitties want to do to me. Dad really enjoyed that.

My brother just called me from CV. He and my other brother went into Dad's room and he was asleep. My brother suggested that we get Dad moved to hospice. No, I don't think it's that time. He still is healthy. He still is a long-term care case. Not ready to die now.

We have to be patient. It seems so hopeless, but it has to run its course.

Candida Infection on His Hand

Candida rash is what they called it, a type of yeast. After holding his hand closed for so long, not allowing it to be cleaned, no wonder that it's got something growing in there. Today he told me that he has stopped worrying about it. He said he has resigned himself to the way it is. That is just the way his attitude is killing him. This I believe. It doesn't have to be like this, but maybe this is actually the right attitude for a person his age. "Youth can never judge age" our father has told us all our lives. I think that is mostly true, but if we are to learn from our elders, then we must judge them to try to figure out what we want to learn. My siblings and I mostly will say to one another that we really don't want to wind up like Dad. Watching his decline is enough to intimidate anyone who hopes to get old. Well, it's already too late for me to die young, but I sure hope I can avoid this long slide. None of us know what it's like to actually be 30 years older, so it is kind of a hollow statement to say we'd rather be dead quick.

Our clan tends to have big heads. Dad was always proud of his big head. Hats were always too small for him. He took that to be indicative of superior cranial capability. Now that big head seems to be too heavy for him. He sits with his chin practically resting on his breast. I try to get him to look up, but if I am successful it's only for a brief moment. He drops his head back down right away.

He still has a full head of hair. This is another thing he has always taken pride in. Glad to have

hair he always says. I always say that if you do have hair, you need to have clean hair and a good haircut. Before he came to the convalescent home and I had to help his caretaker wash his hair, it was a terrible fight. He had such bad seborrhea, it made him look diseased. He always had a close haircut on the sides and about two inches on top. Now that he gets his hair buzzed off, you can really see the huge cowlick on top of his head. Hair comes up from one side and meets the hair on the top and it stands up in a wave. I trim around his ears and his eyebrows so he looks somewhat groomed. I scratch his head and he loves it. He almost purrs. I rub his neck and back as well as I can while he's in the chair. He always tells me how strong my hands are and how sweet I am and how much he loves me.

His fingernails are dirty, but I wait until I can get him at a good time to do that. Today was not a good time.

I asked about his mouth and he said it was sore, so I had him put his dentures in a cup and I cleaned them. I put oragel on his gums using my finger because his finger is dirty. Also, I'm not sure he does a good job. I tried to get the oragel to stick, but with all the saliva, I'm not sure it did. I cleaned and re-lined his dentures with some felt-like liner. I put them back in his mouth but he couldn't tell me if it felt better or not.

I took him outside for a little while on the patio. It was the first nice and warm day for a while. He listened to old radio programs on my ipod. Now that I think about it, it's a little joke: Old radio programs on an ipod. When I got ready to go home he said he wanted to go to bed because he would be lonely when I left. It breaks my heart.

Amos 'n' Andy Save the Day

My ipod has 4 episodes of Amos 'n' Andy radio programs from the 1950's. Dad really does get a laugh out of them. I put the ipod on him when I got there and turned on those programs. I like it when I see him laughing.

I Don't Visit on Weekends

My sister said he was still in bed when she went to see him Saturday afternoon. He really loves to see her, but he didn't rally himself to have a conversation. That is so sad because it shows that he's depressed. He is a person who loves to talk. He will relish some juicy tidbit of gossip about someone in the family. He loves to joke about some of the romantic relationships that my brothers or sister or his grandchildren are involved in. With a large family like ours, there is always family gossip to hash over.

I don't think anyone went to visit him on Sunday. We had a family birthday party, so the family was all there. Whether or not Dad knew that no one was there is something I wonder about. How did he spend the day?

He says that so many thoughts come and go. He will say that he's only a shell of what he was and he can only get through the day by talking to himself, using all his philosophical resources. I know it must be terrible because he is not senile. He knows that he's going to probably die there without ever walking out of there again. That does suck.