Being Ernest

When I arrived  this morning dad was slipping out of his wheelchair and an aide was trying to help him up. I held him while she went to get help. They set him back up and it wasn't long before he slipped back down again. It was determined that his new cushion (placed there to prevent pressure sores) was causing the slipping. It has since been removed, temporarily, and I will shop for sweatpants at Walmart later today. We believe his silky pajamas are not compatible with the cushion.

He avoided eye contact today. His hair is still short and he is clean shaven. It is very nice seeing him look more like himself. While we were sitting together,  one of the residents played The Battle Hymn of the Republic on the piano. Dad hummed along. I told him about what is going on with our family while he stared into space.

I took a moment to shop at the nearby Walmart for sweats. I thew in a BYU shirt too. [Early father's day.] When I returned he was right where I left him. I put his new clothes in his room, notified some of the staff and wheeled him to the TV for some visual stimulation.

Being Ernest

Earlier this week, my cousin and his youngest son paid dad a visit. Visitors are always a good thing…

Today, Dad was still eating breakfast  when I arrived. A nurse nurse was feeding him peaches. I said my hellos and waited him to finish. One if the residents kept asking for sips of his drink. She would get distracted accept our excuses then she would ask again a few minutes later.

I brought in Dad's car magazine this time. Does wiping down his syrup sticky fingers, I noticed his long nails. I must to bring the clippers next visit. His hair remains trimmed and he is clean shaven ( with only a little scuffle). I assume Hospice is responsible for this upkeep.

He is quite fidgety and is mumbling incoherently. His voice is quiet, but once in awhile I get a look and a smile. His smiles say so much. I got a little weepy today as a watched my once so strong daddy struggle to grasp a cup. But he kept on smiling. I guess it's safe to say... he is good with things.

I sat with him a little longer, gave him a little back scratch, & then said my goodbyes. As I was leaving I told him to have a good day. He responded "okay". I  left with a smile on my face.

we forgot…

Forgetting is a natural side effect of aging.
At least, that is what I am blaming my recent and shameful forgetfulness.
I might add my husband to this statement, because we forgot to remind each other.

Under normal circumstances, this is not a big deal.
Usually, we can overcome these oversights.
But, when it effects a third party, recovery is not as simple.

Ever since their first birthday, each of our daughters received roses from their father.
One, for every age.
A single on on their first birthday. A dozen for #12, Sixteen for sweet 16.
Well, you get the picture.

This year would have been 26 for our eldest.
But is wasn’t. We forgot.
But this is not the only forgotten tradition.
All of the usual pomp and circumstance of birthday week (as we affectionately call it)
were also downgraded. No wrapped presents. No birthday cake.

In our defense, we did not forget to eat.
That is something we hardly every forget to do.
And, Kylee did get to choose.

So, as I try to sort through my guilt,
I have to remind myself that we did do something good.
We raised a daughter that is easy going.
We raised a daughter that has never been overly dramatic, self centered or demanding.
We raised a daughter that faithfully served a mission and returned with honor.
This birthday came and went with hardly a peep.

As I prepare now for the birthday (week) of my youngest.
I laughed a little when I though to myself…
The first born has to deal with our mistakes.
The second born has to deal with our over-corrections.

Again, I remind myself that we did do something good…
TWICE!

Being Ernest

Dad got a shave and a haircut this last week.... it's always his best look, but not one he will always cooperate for. Dad has lost 10 pounds. He is weak and cannot get around without his wheelchair.  I have not even seen him in a recliner chair lately....always in his wheelchair.

The week prior, mom and I met with hospice. We sat in the dining room of the care center and discussed dad's needs and the doctors concerns.  We were also reminded that hospice is simply this: an extra layer of care.

As we were talking to the hospice nurse,  she turned to me and told me that I looked so very familiar.  As soon as she said it,  I knew who she was.... the nurse that gave peace and comfort to my mother-in-law as she passed just over 1 year ago. It was a tender mercy and a confirmation that this is a good thing for both mom and dad. It never hurts having more support, love and care. Am I right?