Bring Out Your Dead

I've been reminded of the Monty Python bit about trying to collect the guy who isn't dead yet during the last few days.  The tumor board didn't really know what to do about dad.  Since his fall, he's too frail for the surgery that we first had in mind.  The tumor is in a place that chemo isn't going to get to, and he's already had radiation so that's off the table.  Since they couldn't figure out what else to do with him, they put him on Hospice.  This is great for me and Hamad since someone else comes in to bathe him now and the nurse comes here instead of us schlepping him around.  The problem  is that all of these nice helpers have it in mind that he's at death's door.  It's true that he's probably dying, however he doesn't think so.  He's actually feeling pretty good thanks.

The nurse has been especially adamant that he'll be gone soon.  She had morphine delivered to the house at 11:30 the other night.  He hasn't used any yet.  Today she panicked because the pharmacy didn't send enough Atavan.  Apparently that's for the agitation that starts when someone is dying.  I asked dad if he felt agitated.  He didn't, although he was a little disappointed that there wasn't going to be a Dodger game tonight.  Unfortunately, they have not come up with a pill for disappointment yet.