Just a few things because it’s a bright and beautiful morning and I have to clean before the cleaning man comes. (OMG)
In the Hospice house (a house with only four beds and a medical staff that seems to genuinely care) they hang a picture tag of my father on his door. One side has a (very uncomplimentary) picture of my father, the other side holds vital information: His name, important phone numbers and why he is dying.
It said, “[My Dad's Name] [My Dad's Phone Number] and “Mad Cow.” My mom saw that and showed it to my sister-in-law.
“Do you think they could change that?” she asked.
The nurse fumbled for words. “I’m so sorry. Yes. Yes. I’ll change this right away,” she said.
The disease is Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease and it would be way better if the tag didn’t say Mad Cow. Stunning. Actually shocking to me. (Look! Incomplete sentences!)
Because he’s so agitated, and he’s agitated because he wants to go home, they keep him medicated. Because he’s so heavily medicated, he doesn’t eat: two bites of something in two days. The nurse said if he wakes up she’ll call me and put the phone to his ear. Meantime because I complained about my pigsty home while chatting on Facebook with my sister-in-law, my sister-in-law hired someone to come over at noon to clean the house, which means I have to clean before the cleaning person gets here, so this is necessarily short.
More later.