Memorial Day Weekend is now behind us. I managed to spend most of Saturday and Monday with my father. On Sunday evening Sandra, Nathaniel, Amber and I took him out for an ice cream to a location of his choice. He picked Brown's Old Fashioned Ice Cream near the Nubble Lighthouse in York Beach. The kids size, which we all had was very large. His favorite is butter crunch.
Sandra's mom had an episode on Thursday and we told my father about it while standing in the huge line waiting to order ice cream. She was diagnosed with bleeding in her brain in late winter. She spent some time in the hospital and fortunately made a great recovery. We have come to regard her as a very special lady and my father took the news pretty hard. His body flinched as he listed and then he asked for more details. Sandra told him she was ok, that she had spoken with her and she didn't need to go to the hospital. He was relieved and asked Sandra to tell her he hopes she gets well soon. It was obvious he was very concerned about her.
It is very interesting to me how some things my father remembers completely and somethings he cannot recall but tries to talk about. Often he will not remember that I visited him the previous day according to my sister, but when I return with him to a place he had been a few days earlier he has full recollection. As on Saturday we were working in the garden, he was very content turning the soil over with a spadefork. However he kept looking over at my rototiller parked on the garden's edge as if it were taking a long winter's nap and was ready to wake up. He started asking me why we weren't using it. I told him it wasn't working and he said, "let's fix it."
We towed it from the garden up to the house and began pulling off the starter cord recoil and looked around for some rope to replace the broken one. We found some rope, replaced the broken cord and started pulling. The rope broke immediately.
My sister said she asked him on Sunday what he had done on Saturday and he said nothing. She asked him if he had seen me and he said,"no." Evidently attempting to fix the rototiller had escaped his memory.
On Monday I brought him to our house again and he got right out of the truck and walked up to the rototiller and found I had bought a new cord. He said, "Oh, you got a new one."
He then began to pull on it remembering where we had left off. Bye the way, the tiller still wouldn't start, I think there are carburator issues now.
On Monday my father and I walked to the Memorial Day Parade from Sentry Hill. My son, Silas was drumming in the York High School Band. Unfortunately, the parade was so small and passed so quickly we barely had time to pick him out. It was fun though. My father has gone to the parade for many years. We saw and stood beside some friends of his and to whom he was a bit grumpy with. When they asked him how he had been he said sarcastically, "what do you mean? How do you think I have been?"
This type of response doesn't encourage people to visit with him at Sentry Hill.
....Back to Monday. I walked to the parade with my father and then brought him back to Sentry Hill. He asked if we could go upstairs to see the saw marks or similar on the floor. I had no idea what he was referring to but agreed. We walked up a tall flight of stairs and opened the door into a lobby directly across from a nurses station. The head nurse was standing there and asked my father how he was. She was looking at him intently and asked what was going on with his lips. They were grayish, white. I hadn't noticed.
She sat him down in a chair and took his blood pressure. She said it was 90 over 60. His pulse was 60. I though this was pretty good and then she added that it is very sporadic. She suggested he rest a while. He went on to tell her how much he wanted to go home. That he didn't want to die there. He said he didn't mind dying if he was doing something he wanted to, but why would he want to die there? She was very sympathetic but otherwise wasn't able to help him.
It was very difficult to leave him. I told him I would come back later. The day was beautiful and he asked me if we could go out and look for the ducks in the pond. We went out. We were both very quiet. I knew how badly he wanted to go home. Finally, I said I was going to leave. He walked inside, through the locked doors and into the space so unbeautiful compared to the outdoors we had just left.
I picked him back up around 3:30. We went over to a graveyard where his sister Evelyn is buried. He also intends on being burried here. As it was memorial day I asked Amber and Nathaniel if they would like to come and rake up the graveyard and do some pruning. Although Memorial Day is intended to commemorate fallen soldiers it is also a good time to clean up family graves and reminiss about people my kids never got to know. They agreed and we all spent a bit of time in the woods trimming and tidying up.
Sandra stayed home and cooked dinner for us all. Upon our return home my father ate two baked potates, two ears of corn on the cobb a generous serving of haddock and a piece of apple pie that Sandra baked. We had a nice time with him. And later Sandra said, "I really enjoyed having your dad here."
Sandra's mom had an episode on Thursday and we told my father about it while standing in the huge line waiting to order ice cream. She was diagnosed with bleeding in her brain in late winter. She spent some time in the hospital and fortunately made a great recovery. We have come to regard her as a very special lady and my father took the news pretty hard. His body flinched as he listed and then he asked for more details. Sandra told him she was ok, that she had spoken with her and she didn't need to go to the hospital. He was relieved and asked Sandra to tell her he hopes she gets well soon. It was obvious he was very concerned about her.
It is very interesting to me how some things my father remembers completely and somethings he cannot recall but tries to talk about. Often he will not remember that I visited him the previous day according to my sister, but when I return with him to a place he had been a few days earlier he has full recollection. As on Saturday we were working in the garden, he was very content turning the soil over with a spadefork. However he kept looking over at my rototiller parked on the garden's edge as if it were taking a long winter's nap and was ready to wake up. He started asking me why we weren't using it. I told him it wasn't working and he said, "let's fix it."
We towed it from the garden up to the house and began pulling off the starter cord recoil and looked around for some rope to replace the broken one. We found some rope, replaced the broken cord and started pulling. The rope broke immediately.
My sister said she asked him on Sunday what he had done on Saturday and he said nothing. She asked him if he had seen me and he said,"no." Evidently attempting to fix the rototiller had escaped his memory.
On Monday I brought him to our house again and he got right out of the truck and walked up to the rototiller and found I had bought a new cord. He said, "Oh, you got a new one."
He then began to pull on it remembering where we had left off. Bye the way, the tiller still wouldn't start, I think there are carburator issues now.
On Monday my father and I walked to the Memorial Day Parade from Sentry Hill. My son, Silas was drumming in the York High School Band. Unfortunately, the parade was so small and passed so quickly we barely had time to pick him out. It was fun though. My father has gone to the parade for many years. We saw and stood beside some friends of his and to whom he was a bit grumpy with. When they asked him how he had been he said sarcastically, "what do you mean? How do you think I have been?"
This type of response doesn't encourage people to visit with him at Sentry Hill.
....Back to Monday. I walked to the parade with my father and then brought him back to Sentry Hill. He asked if we could go upstairs to see the saw marks or similar on the floor. I had no idea what he was referring to but agreed. We walked up a tall flight of stairs and opened the door into a lobby directly across from a nurses station. The head nurse was standing there and asked my father how he was. She was looking at him intently and asked what was going on with his lips. They were grayish, white. I hadn't noticed.
She sat him down in a chair and took his blood pressure. She said it was 90 over 60. His pulse was 60. I though this was pretty good and then she added that it is very sporadic. She suggested he rest a while. He went on to tell her how much he wanted to go home. That he didn't want to die there. He said he didn't mind dying if he was doing something he wanted to, but why would he want to die there? She was very sympathetic but otherwise wasn't able to help him.
It was very difficult to leave him. I told him I would come back later. The day was beautiful and he asked me if we could go out and look for the ducks in the pond. We went out. We were both very quiet. I knew how badly he wanted to go home. Finally, I said I was going to leave. He walked inside, through the locked doors and into the space so unbeautiful compared to the outdoors we had just left.
I picked him back up around 3:30. We went over to a graveyard where his sister Evelyn is buried. He also intends on being burried here. As it was memorial day I asked Amber and Nathaniel if they would like to come and rake up the graveyard and do some pruning. Although Memorial Day is intended to commemorate fallen soldiers it is also a good time to clean up family graves and reminiss about people my kids never got to know. They agreed and we all spent a bit of time in the woods trimming and tidying up.
Sandra stayed home and cooked dinner for us all. Upon our return home my father ate two baked potates, two ears of corn on the cobb a generous serving of haddock and a piece of apple pie that Sandra baked. We had a nice time with him. And later Sandra said, "I really enjoyed having your dad here."
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave a comment, I would like to hear from you.