Saturday night
Tonight dad is slightly more alert. When I asked him if he knew that Larry Irwin had visited, he said, “No, I must’ve been out.” When mom asked if he’d heard someone playing guitar, he said he “didn’t know any of the songs.” His response time on some of the answers was very fast, but not accurate (where had he been out to when Larry had visited!)He also has an oxygen nose plug. Nurse Kelly is very kind, but a little lacking in discretion. I was upset to hear from my sister that she had said in front of my nieces that she and dad had had a chat, and he knew his chances of making it weren’t good, but when she had asked him if he wanted to be resuscitated if his heart or lungs failed, he said yes, he did.
Yes, he did.
Now he might’ve been out when she asked him that question. But at least it makes things clear that we need to get the call and assess the situation, rather than just assume.
Suz said that made everyone cry before going in to see dad.
Kelly said the same thing to me and mom tonight, in front of dad. I guess if she feels she discussed it with him, the coast was clear.
Must’ve been out.
On the other hand, she is very kind to dad and attentive to his comfort.
He was talking about pain, so she tracked down on call Doc R. at his home. For some reason the staff has a note that dad is allergic to morphine ( probably from Mr. Must’ve been out), which mom doesn’t recall. As a result he was given a Demerol/gravol drip tonite.
I’m feeling lousy that I haven’t pinned Doc T. down for an answer on the 2 questions still floating out there awaiting answers from Doc. Schiff’s office – can dad be moved to Toronto for the oral biopsy, and is he a candidate for a liver transplant. Reasonableness test says the answer to both is not likely. But if it were me in that bed, would I want a clear yes or no, or non-action based on reasonableness test. Better get on the phone to Doc. T on Monday.
Sunday morning.
Wake up too late to go to early service. Am getting cleaned up for later service when Suz. Calls. Nurse Kelly has called her to say dad has had a bad nite and is a lot worse today. I go up to case things up before waking mom. He’s bad. I need her to be there for him and to assess things.
He is wheezing, breathing laboured, and moaning in a soft but open mouthed way. His eyes roll back in his head, and he can’t say or register any kind of acknowledgement that he knows who is there. (although when we leave for lunch, and I tell him Benny will be coming to visit, he seems to register that. Gosh, he loves that baby.)
He can’t swallow. His urine output is minimal.
Doc. R also calls her. He tells all of us in turn to call in the troops. They will try to keep him comfortable while everyone gets here until tomorrow.
It’s going to be hard for my kids to see dad this way. But Kelly feels that dad would like it if they come and play their instruments for him.
Mom wants to go for lunch. So we head over to tony’s. We don’t have her wheelchair, but clutching window sills, etc., she makes it. Jean Scholtz had come in just as we left. She is upset too.
While lunch comes, mom spouts all kinds of nonsense. I totally understand her need to say things out loud. Mainly I listen and try not to cry.
She mentions how handsome dad was when he was young. I looked up their wedding album last nite. I have I in my kit bag to scan in the pictures and return them asap. They were both beautiful. In the wedding picture she has on the front room fireplace, she is too serious. There are others in the album where she is smiling and relaxed and happy. She is really pretty.
In them, dad looks just how he is today. Happy go lucky, happy to be in the moment.
When I went on my scouting mission up to the hosp this morning, Kelly wanted to talk to me before I saw him, so I waited at the end of the hall. I could pick out dad’s voice, breathing heavily and moaning softly.
I will really miss dad’s voice. He has such a soft gentle fuzzy kind of voice. The kind of voice you look forward to hearing on the phone.
When Ben was born last year, and I stayed overnite in hospital, dad called up to my room. I was so happy to hear his voice. That’s the way pretty much everyone feels about dad.
Sunday aft.
The kids arrive on dad’s floor with their instruments around 3:45. The girls have their violins and Neil has his electronic keyboard and stand.
They play a variety of tunes for dad – some classical studies, fiddle tunes, Christmas songs, even O Canada. They save a couple of orchestra pieces that combine different voices for last – holy, holy and Beauty and the Beast. A few wobbles of course, but they sound wonderful.
Susannah taps me on the knee and says, I think Pop is singing. I can hear his voice going up and down with the tune.
And when I look over at his bed a while later, I am positive I can see his foot tapping under the blanket. I am not making this up.
The fact that they have been able to do this for him right now makes every cent paid out for music lessons worthwhile. I am happy for them that they have been able to give this to their grandfather. And that they have been able to see how powerful music can be.
I tell dad I am taking the band out for supper and will be back soon.
Sunday night
Pretty much as soon as we return from supper, dad’s evening nurse Lori calls over to say dad is even worse and family should be with him.
I wanted to see him anyway before I went home. So Stan takes the little guys home. The big guys want to stay with me and see Pop too.
The visit ends up with us chatting to Pop about all his favourite subjects – Pythagorean theorum, Star Trek episodes, environmental hazards of plastic vs glass bottles, Mutiny on the Bounty and more Star Trek.
They are truly the children of Blaine.
Arrive home at midnight. Haven't got the phone call yet.
The nurses were quite emotional this aft/evening about a dnr. Things have been complicated by the fact that when I left, James hadn’t arrived yet.
Sus and Alex are on the midnight watch, and will be with mom tomorrow.
We all wait with sadness for the news that tomorrow will bring.
