Dad went home to hospice on October 8, nine days after being admitted to the hospital. Uncle Jimmy got to see him before he left.
Monday, October 12
Dad is far more talkative today.
When Steph was out sleeping, I just laid next to him and talked about whatever came to mind. Dad said, “Will you please stop talking?” I guess he is more like Steph than I thought.
Later on he asked me to give him a kiss.
“Give me another kiss, please.”
“Will you hold my hand?”
“Will you comb my hair?” That was addressed to Stephanie.
Dad had been trying to get up every half an hour with Stephanie (and literally every 5 minutes that morning). “It hurts laying down.”
I told him that I would help him sit up, but that he could not try to get up.
Almost as soon as he sat up, he tried to get up off the bed.
I was pleading with him. I told him I couldn’t help him. He couldn’t stand on his own. We would both fall down. One of us might get broken and it would probably be me. Then he’d be stuck trying to get help when he could not talk loud or move. It would be terrible. He stopped fighting me on that.
I sat up holding him for two hours.
They changed Dad’s meds this morning and he gets one every hour.
Steph had given up trying to sleep and come back into Dad’s apartment around 9 or so. Then she fell asleep.
I needed Dad’s medicine, but I didn’t want to wake her up to ask her to get it.
So I asked Daddy if he would lie down and not try to get up while I went to get his medicine so Stephie could sleep. He said, “Yes.” That was his last word.
That afternoon, around 4, Dad was cool and Mark remarked on it. Steph said he would get hot if we put a blanket on him. We did it anyway because he was cold at the time.
I went and got dinner, ate it.
Went back into the room and Dad was sweating, hot. I told Steph. (For the first time in two weeks she hadn’t been sitting staring at him, but had been reading a book.) She said, “I told you not to put a blanket on him.” I said, “four hours ago!” (But I don’t think he was that hot when I came in with dinner, so it had only been a little while, really.)
Dad was having trouble breathing. His eyes were bugged out. Steph didn’t realize (see above). We moved him around and Stephanie kept saying, “It’s okay, Dad. You can rest.” and petting his arm.
I was holding his other arm and touching his cheek and giving him kisses.
After about 2 hours (why everything in 2 hours today?) Dad calmed down and was breathing better.
Steph got on the bed to rest.
I pulled the couch pillows down and laid on the floor, holding onto Dad’s foot, so he would know I was there.
Jeanna came in around 12:30 and sent us both to bed. I thought Dad might be gone before we got up. He wasn’t.