Family update, Aug. 30, 2020, Saturday
Dad is doing okay. Nothing has changed dramatically in the past month. As expected, he’s literally slowing down physically and mentally. Walking less, talking less, sleeping more.
A few times a week, Dad sleeps/rests in his bed until late-afternoon, perhaps holding Clyde or Jackie. When he sleeps late, he seems stronger and more alert once he finally does get out of bed. Sometimes he stays up long enough to watch The Wheel, sometimes not.
Most days now, Mr. Pete feeds himself. It’s messy but it does the job. He gets easily distracted by any little thing; today it was a cupcake container. He can’t seem to use both hands at once to reconnect the lid.
Pete was working on opening or closing the crinkly plastic box for long minutes at a time, completely ignoring his fruit salad for awhile, eating a bit, then going back to the cupcake holder.
I let him struggle because it gives him something to think about, something to do with his hands. It also helps me understand how well his mind and body are working together. Don’t worry, I’m with him during these eating experiments.
Today I purposely left the paper on the little cake to observe whether Dad would remove it before taking a bite. And, if not, to find out what he’d do when he tried to chew the paper. Mary Ann rescued him from my experiment, so I can’t tell you which path he would’ve taken.
The cupcake dilemma made it particularly interesting to observe Dad at the table. In addition to paper and plastic, each turquoise topped cupcake had a plastic pinky ring on the top. I’d pointed these out to him, taking them off each cupcake and explaining that they weren’t edible.
Later, while Dad was eating his granola cereal, I heard him trying to crack an errant pecan shell between his teeth. Of course, it wasn’t a shell, it was a plastic cupcake ring that he seemed determined to chew up. Apparently, he’d put it in his mouth, thinking it was candy.
As for me, I’m in Lumberton today but have been visiting my HB place more often. I leave Lumberton only while Dad is strong enough to get around with one caregiver. And when neither of us has doctor appointments.
My beau, Tom, is self-isolating AMAP (as much as possible) while he continues to empty his formerly flooded basement. This is just the prep for pulling out a half-house-full of walls and insulation before starting the repair process.
Dad and I are safe, semi-sound, and laughing AMAP. Hope you are, too.
PS. I didn’t allow Dad to eat the plastic ring. In case you were wondering.
Twists and Turns 