Dad's Home...

He's home, the sun is shining, and he says he is very happy to be Home.  Willie was thrilled to see him, and required being in his lap for extended periods.  Dad's fine with that, and sneaking treats to him.

 The following are just random notes.  I'm posting it as more of a journal for me than anything. Please don't feel you are required to read on, though you are welcome to comment.

The new hip is working nicely, scar has healed well, and he has no pain from it.

He managed to get some orange chicken with rice and a small amount of a protein shake down after he got home. I fixed him corned beef hash with an egg last night, it was his request. It was good, but he struggled to swallow even a few bites. I've talked with his oncologist and the ENT surgeon, and this difficulty swallowing some things is part of what is at this stage. His coughing to clear his throat is about the same. It is frustrating to him that he can't eat many of his favorites without his choking. And we face the aspirating problem.

He is very weak and only manages very short distances with his walker. Then he sets in it and I push him where he wants to go. We have a wheel chair (left over from Mom) and a hoveround that he used to get back and forth to the mailbox(we live on a hill).  I'm not sure about him getting too dependent on mech things to do things for him, need to talk to PT & his doc about that, hopefully Monday. 

This morning he was up for a while, got him changed, his three E's in, meds and eye drops in, and gave his legs a massage, and got part of a banana protein shake down him. He wanted his favorite CD of Roy Orbison on the whole house stereo system, so we were rock'n the house, and he spent some time in his den on his computer. He's back in bed now, and comfortable.

I have a dear friend that has been occasionally going to see him with me. She talks to him like this is just a minor bump in the road. I know that she means well, but it isn't the reality, and he & I know it. 

He and I both know why he has been so adamant about getting home.

Monday, his home health caregiver will be here, as well as PT and a few others, that he enjoys interacting with. Hopefully they will cheer him up. 

 Lots of orders for his care came home with him.  He is on nocturnal oxygen, so they showed up not long after he got home and explained the equipment to me. I rearranged some things in his bedroom and that's all in place.  He is to use it when he naps, as well. That gets a little problematic as he is prone to just dozing off in his chair.  Last night was a process to get him ready for bed. Remove the 3 E's:  ears (hearing aides), eyes (glasses), eats (false teeth), put in his eye drops, turn on the big oxy machine, adjust it, put the nasal cannula on him, and the finger oxy tester thingy...  but we gott'er done and him tucked in for the night. Oh, and put the other things that he thought he might need on his night stand, including the big Donger (cowbell/handle)!

 (I told him he better damn well be dying if he rings that thing in the middle of the night. He laughed, and said "Aah I Love You, Sissy, Thank You for taking care of me."   "I Love You Dad, and you are most welcome.")

 

The Crazy Petunia and The Hipster Dad...

Willie catching a bit of sun this morning, January 11, 2017, next to The Crazy Purple Petunia. That dang plant has been blooming non stop since last summer. It's been frost bit, snowed on, had freezing rain fall on it, and it still keeps coming back with more blooms.

Much like Dad...

(note: my FB page and the blog are not tied together, I like it that way!  I can say what I want on the blog, FB not so much.)

"Dad fell at home early Sat morning, broke his right hip, after a brief stay at St E's, he was transported to Feather River Hospital. He had hip replacement surgery that afternoon, and did well. He is there til given the go ahead to transfer to rehab. A big thanks to all our wonderful family, friends, and neighbors who have stepped up to help in any way possible. And a Huge Thank You to orthopedic surgeon Dr DeFrancisci, and the surgery dept staff at Feather River Hospital, who have all gone way above and beyond the norm with their many kindnesses."

Dad is doing well, they have had him up and walking. He will be transferred up to rehab in Anderson, 20 miles N of home, sometime today. I will meet him up there, and try to sneak Willie in for a quick hug, it would do them both good. Dad is milking this more than a bit with all the cute young nurses hovering around him. 

Dad's girlfriend called and asked if she should send him flowers.  I said, "Nooo, flowers just wilt and then make you sad, send him a blowup dolly to keep him company!"  I heard a choked giggle and then the line went dead,  I guess she's working on that...

Deserter...

Went out for the dawn run with wee Willie. As is my compulsion I made my bed before leaving. Wore a loud orange tee, it's dove season in the back of beyond.  It was still fairly early when we got back.  I had made coffee in my trusty French press before I left the house, so off to the kitchen to get a cuppa, and do some admiring on my kitchen cabinets remodel from the day before. 

It had been a battle to keep Dad from doing it. I had erred by telling him I was going to reverse the way a couple of the cabinets opened. (Who ever the carpenter was that put in the cabinets when mom & dad built this house never had to function in a kitchen.) Turned my back and there Dad was (with my drill mind you) getting ready to climb on a step ladder. "Oh Heck No!  You can supervise to your heart's content, but I'm doing it."  Worked out well, and this morning Dad had positioned himself so that when the home helper came he had a ring side seat to watch her practically rip off the doors trying to open them from the now wrong side...

Got back to my room, which is a work in progress for sure. (Seriously, who the hell puts white carpet throughout a house in RED Bluff) Looked around for Willie, no dog. Searched through the house, no dog. Checked outside, no dog. Damn, I know I'm a bit cranky from lack of sleep but to have my dog desert me...

Slightly bent, not broken...

It has been storm'n here, and we are getting some much needed rain. Grass is growing, reservoirs are slowly filling, but the clay soil is too wet to plant the veggie garden. If it weren't clay I would be out there planting, cheap therapy...  

Willie and I have been running in the rain, which is fine by me, not so much by Willie.  He has turned into Dad's lap dog. I think the dog biscuit jar by Dad's chair, and scraps from Dad's dinner plate have something to do with it.  Dad has started calling him with... "how's My Dog doing?" and "I'm going to turn My Dog loose on the neighbors darn cats, right after we take a nap."

An early morning run helps clear out a lot of the stuff that has gone on before and since I got back from the girls trip to LV.  It was wonderful to have a few days with the girls, not so much to come back to another !@#$ storm, that again seems to be widely advertised as my fault.  There has been a huge contest going on with mother leading the pack, to see just how many family, friends of mother's, attorneys, and assorted others it's going to take to break me in little pieces. Thankfully the hospice nurse and social worker totally get it, so they  hugged me and wished me luck as they sprinted out the door.

I try to use a little common sense, so I've found that if it's raining too hard to run safely,  another source of mental health balance is to set on top the dog house (in the covered kennel) with a neat scotch and a cigar and listen to the rain...  
The pack seem to have forgotten that I was taught survival skills early on by my late MIL, as she knew I would need them. Bless her. 
I know there will again be sunshine.  Slightly bent, not broken...

Your father did...

I can cook, just not well.  No, I try to cook, without killing, and so far I have succeeded, but it's a day by day thing.  It could be because I have always been happier outside or inside crafting or reading or whatever.  None of which have anything to do with cooking. 

I can cut calves, being fast and accurate with my knife, with the best of them. But cooking mountain oysters without having blowback all over cowcamp is not in my skillset.

Today, I wanted to cook a new (to me) version of Hoppin John and my own bacon cornbread concoction to bring Good Luck in this New Year.  I told the old folks I was fixing these delights and they asked if they could have milkshakes instead... 

"Nope,  but your welcome to join me in a short prayer that we survive."  I'll be darned, if mom didn't try to make the sign of the cross, and she's not even Cathlick.

 At Dinner Mom has a tray in bed and Dad and I eat at the dinning room table.  The Hoppin John turned out really well, and the bacon cornbread did too.  Dad had two helpings of each, and mom ate most of hers as well.

 pic from Everyday Dutch Oven

 Dad has fallen in love with my Jack Russell, Willie, and is feeding him biscuits and what ever else he thinks that JR garbage receptacle would like.  We have had a few discussions about not feeding him from your plate, but dad has selective hearing, and has missed all my pleadings. 

As I was picking up mom's plate, I said, "Whoa, you ate it all."  

"Yes I did," she said with a smirky smile.  The only thing was...  Dad and Willie had both moved back into the bedroom by then to watch their football game... and mom doesn't usually eat all her food. 

"Are you sure You ate it all,  You didn't feed Willie did you?" I asked.

"Oh No, I didn't feed Willie!"   and then in her time honored way she threw Dad under the bus,  "But Your Father Did!"