February 16th, 2010

geese

Moving On

My dad wasn't doing very well here, so he is taking advantage of the five-day respite offered by the Hospice program. His overall condition is serious enough that he really needs close supervision by professional caregivers. I was pretty sure he wouldn't make it through the night last night. I doubt that he'll survive very long even at the Hospice house. He was lucky to have remained in fairly good condition as long as he did, having reached the age of 100 with his wits intact and no severe pain, but his health has deteriorated at an accelerating pace for the last three months.

When he came back a few days ago, he was alert enough to be happy to be home, but since then he has had to have so much medication that he seems to have forgotten he was here and kept asking where the nurses were. They have him more heavily sedated at the hospice house, so he might not even know he's been moved again, but at least they'll be able to keep his pain under control. I hope his dreams are more pleasant there than they were here.

Meanwhile my mom's Alzheimer's is so advanced that she didn't even recognize my dad when he came back. She thought he was her dad, who died some forty years ago. My dad is now so hard of hearing that he didn't realize that she thought that she was talking to her dad and not to him, so in a way they both enjoyed their reunion, I suppose. Given the circumstances, we chose not to enlighten them to the misunderstanding. Old age is difficult enough without reality intruding on it. I hope to be eaten by mountain lions before I reach that state.
sutter_buttes_scene

Spring Forth

An unseasonable temperature caught me by surprise today. I went outside wearing a jacket and found myself too warm. It's going to be even warmer tomorrow. Winter might come back, though in a mild form, by Saturday, when more rain is predicted. I won't hold my breath. This afternoon I got buzzed by a bee. The bees say it's spring. They probably know more than the weather bureau does.

Evening brought a crescent moon smile, and as I stood on the front porch I heard deer hooves, and saw the dim form of a lone stag trot up the street. I waited to see if other deer followed, but there were none. Perhaps others had already passed by before I'd gone out, and the lone stag was following his little herd.

All three of the feral cats turned up this afternoon, though not at the same time, and their mom came by for a snack too. Alger is still the only one of them that will purr for me. Portia purrs all the time, of course. It makes her happy to be putting little puncture wounds in my knees while sitting on my lap.

Tomorrow afternoon I have arrangements to go see my dad at the Hospice house. He'll undoubtedly be too heavily sedated to see me, or even know that I'm there, but I'll still get to see him.

I can smell the over-eager spring through my window, and hear the frog chorus singing. Maybe I'll go out to sniff and listen for a while. Surely a jacket will be appropriate by this hour. It doesn't seem right to go out without a jacket in the middle of February.