I have a hard time deciding to write about the Man. From a strapping six-foot plus man of a man, he has come to be very dependent on me. He is very ill. He is 87, and I believe he has gone to looking to the end. He has not embraced it yet, but that will come. Right now, we are in a game of him loosing his mind. I hate to say this out loud, but it really is a funny stage if you can let go and let God and laugh about it. Some examples:
“The Rifleman lives in our small town and has four kids. Two boys and two girls – What is that boy’s name?” he says. I answer, “The only one I know is Mark.” He comes back with, “I know that one. What is the other one’s name?”
“I saw a mouse in the bathroom last night. Do we have a mousetrap?” I answer, “No, but I will get one when I go to the store this week.” Later in the day he tells me, “Right there is the shaving cream to catch that mouse with.”
He decides to lay down in the afternoon. This takes several minutes to manuever. We get him to the bed, and I’m hoping to get a rest as well. I have some green beans on the stove. I ask him if he would like some dinner in a couple of hours when he gets up. He says he doesn’t want any dinner; his stomach is bothering him. I lay down next to him. he jumps up and says, “What’s for dinner?” I’m shocked, but I am glad he’s wanting food so I say, “Are you hungry?” He tells me yes, of course, isn’t it time to eat? I hurry to the kitchen and throw a really good supper together – green beans, okra, avocado, watermelon, and cornbread. He eats every bite. I guess it was time.
After supper he decides to go to bed. I get all his bedtime medicine, and after several very slow trips to the bathroom to brush teeth, shave, etc. he lies down in bed. Before I can walk around to the other side, he jumps up and says he has indigestion and is going to sleep in his chair – which he does. He sleeps really well for a while.
One afternoon, he is asleep in his chair, and I am napping on the bed. I am startled awake by loud static sounds coming from the living room. I run in, and he has unplugged the TV and several other things as well as thrown several things into the middle of the floor. When I ask, he replies, “I can’t find the remote.” This one made me laugh and later cry.
These are just a few examples that we have laughed about. He remembers doing them; he just doesn’t know why he does them. He still tells me he loves me, and I get hugs at times. He likes to talk about the grandkids.
Today, he said, “I am just trying to make it to see **** (our first-born). ” He is coming the first of August.
I hope he makes it too; sometimes I don’t.
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