Dad has started to decline a little more. The past few days have been about the same for him in that aspect. I've noticed that he has gotten so he can't stay awake much anymore. He drifts into a deep sleep and sleeps hard for an hour or so then he stays awake for a little while, then repeats the cycle. He is still eating his one pancake and drinking his three Ensures.
Dad is still able to talk and carry on short conversations. It's just harder for him to talk than it use to be. He is a bit hard to understand at times, but I'll take that over not being able to hear his voice any day. I've discovered that instead of going over and being engaged by dad for hours on end, it's become this thing where I go over and sit and watch him. That has gotten to be a bit difficult and I feel guilty because I don't go over as much anymore. I still go four days a week, but my quality time with dad has minimized. I don't know what to do when I'm there...
Mom is doing ok. She seems to be a bit more anxious. She wakes up in the middle of the night every time she sees dad's lamp turn on. He has a touch lamp that sits on his bed side table and he turns it on every hour through out the night to check his Ileostomy bag and to release air build up. She's still running between dad and her dad and brother. It seems like her lot in life has always been the caretaker...
I'm ok. I'm sort of at a point where I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know that sounds terrible, but it's like holding your breath and constantly waiting for the inevitable phone call. I catch myself watching dad's chest for signs of life when he's sleeping.
Penny, the hospice nurse, told mom that she is just amazed that dad is still with us.
