Update

Sometimes writing in this blog after experiencing the actual events takes more energy than I have, but here's a try. I can't remember if I mentioned it in the prior post, but after being admitted back into Good Sam's after the stroke Dad went back to the nursing/rehab facility or "jail" as he now likes to refer to it. While there we experienced moments where one day he'd be so-so as far as his mood, to days (four to be exact) where he refused to even change his clothes or his adult undergarment. Taking him to and from Affordable Dentures for a fitting that day was awful, because he smelled strongly of urine and...Oh my gosh. I did everything I could before and after returning to the facility to get dad to change into fresh clean clothes but he was as obstinate about not changing as a child would be about taking a nap. When I mentioned it to the nurse, she said she had noticed an odor earlier and had discussed with him why a change of clothing was in order and he'd refused to change. She explained that they do not like to force the situation as their residents already feel as if so much has been taken out of their control. Although I understood what she was saying, Tuesday was dialysis day and I couldn't have Dad sitting in that recliner during treatment for three and a half hours smelling like he did. She promised the attendant would get him to take a shower. She kept her promise however the next day Dad insisted on putting on the same dirty, foul smelling clothes.

Dad's mood declined even worst over his stay in the rehab facility. I walked into his room one day and he was talking to his brother Charlie telling him that Debbie and I had changed his beneficiaries. He told Charlie, "I just can't see how they could do such a thing. But I guess they did it so that Angie could benefit." He'd also been telling everybody that we'd tricked him into going into the facility. To be honest the doctor suggested it to him and I was actually very surprised he agreed. Even though I know Dad's suffered a decline in his mental capacity with the stroke, it hurt like a mofo hearing him talk about us that way.

Now an update...Dad's back home and we hope, pray, beg for him to improve both mentally and physically. Physically, he's doing great--walking up and down the stairs already. Mentally, not so good. Sometimes he refuses to eat anything because he feels like what's the use. "I can't have hostess cupcakes," he said tonight. "So what's the use?" Or he goes on and on that hopefully the next stroke will be the one to take him out. Tonight his sugar was low--78, which concerns me but he said, “Well hopefully it’ll get lower during the night and…whatever.” I hate it when he says things like that. It makes me angry and sad...mostly angry. Okay, enough for now.