If you've been reading this blog, you know that my father is quite unwell. He's 87 and working on wrapping up his life. Sometimes he's pretty out of it, which may have to do with his alzheimers or his pain pills, we don't really know. One thing that's been pretty constant is that he hasn't gotten out of bed without being under duress since he broke his hip last June. We did drag him to doctors appointments before they put him on Hospice.
Occasionally he decides he wants to go somewhere, but as soon as we start getting him out of bed, he changes his mind and then usually takes a nap instead. Yesterday, however, I went into his room and he was getting out of bed. I went and found Momo who rushed in to prevent a catastrophe. Much to my amazement, dad got up into a wheeled desk chair (the kind programmers use for office hockey) and Momo wheeled him into the kitchen. Dad supervised the making of a martini and then went back to bed to drink it.
I know that we're supposed to be helping dad feel comfortable about his approaching death, but I can't help but being overjoyed whenever he starts feeling a little better. Let's just say that I'm not willing to put him on the cart early. (Yuki and her Monte Python friends will get it.)
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