Changes and decisions

     Terrible night again last night.  Dad went in to the bathroom, and lost responsiveness and strength in his leg and arms and almost fell again.  Mom and Erin were right there, and called for help.  By the time the rest of us got here 15 minutes later, he was responsive, but pasty white and looked awful.  The guys carried him out to the bed and he gradually perked up some, and then slept.  We all honestly thought that he was leaving us last night.

     There is a significant difference in his strength today.  He still wants to walk to the bathroom, but it takes two of us to assist.  He was awake and quite aware for an hour or so around noon, but was pretty sleepy all morning and is sleeping again this afternoon.   He has not had alot of medications today, and seems to want to wait.  He has a bladder catheter in, and urine output is very low.  He is bothered by bladder spasms from the catheter, and is getting a little relief from a heating pad.  Dad notices a change in how he is feeling today, and when I asked if he is in pain, he says no.  He says that he is weaker.  He is nodding to questions, and still writes short notes.  He still gives us weak little smiles.  Things have changed enough that we feel that we need to have two people here.  As weak as he is, he still manages to get himself up sometimes, and someone has to be right here. 

     His fluid intake remains very small, just sips with pills.  His swallowing seems to be worse today, and it's harder for him to drink with a straw.  He ate a couple of bites of applesauce yesterday, and nothing today. 

      We believe that he is nearing the end of this battle.  I don't think that it is imminent, but we are seeing definite changes. It's been our intention to care for him at home until the end.  It's just getting to be harder to do as he gets weaker.  We are discussing using the hospice facility at Avera, the Dougherty House.  None of us want to let Dad down, but we also want to do the best by him.  A friend told me, "sometimes promises are made with the best of intentions, but reality interferes."  Dad is aware that we may do this, and agrees.  I honestly believe that he understands and would forgive us. I am also thinking of him a few days ago, when the windows were open, and we could hear the traffic and the neighborhood dogs, etc.  He said, "I wanna go home" with a weak smile.  This city house probably isn't home to the country boy, anyway.   As of now though, a hospice bed isn't available. 

      We pray for strength for us, comfort for him, and that soon he can be done with this suffering and be home with Jesus.  The thought of losing him is unreal, yet the thought of him continuing to suffer is worse.  The song, "When I Get Where I'm Going" by Brad Paisley is my current favorite.