Dad
Dad had a relatively quiet night. We were able to get him a warming blanket, which helped immensely against the chill of constant air conditioning. He mostly kept his nasal cannula in place, though I had to replace it enough to smile at his efforts.
C had come back to the hospital after her break, bringing me my requested piece of toast and some water. She was here until after 11pm. I made her go home because she’s been in the thick of this from the beginning. J has also been running herself ragged trying to keep up with Dad, her job, her other job, and everything else she has going. Thankfully, both sisters got a break from this.
The sleeping chair here was laughable, but it did the trick. I camped out bedside and was able to keep Dad company throughout the night. He slept fairly well and I slept much like I sleep these days — restless, uncomfortable, and in pain. That said, I felt better just being here. There won’t be many more days with my dad and I don’t want to miss a single one if I can help it.
His nurses and aides have been lovely, gentle, and professional. The only thing I’d change is, perhaps, quieter neighbors. But this is part and parcel of hospital life.
Currently watching the nurses do bedside shift change report. Despite it being a bit noisy, it’s good to hear what information they’re exchanging. I’m trying to NOT jump in with extraneous info, but it’s near impossible. They’re very kind about it.
Other than that, we’re waiting for Mojo to get here. Praying for just enough time to have us all here together to let him know it’s okay to let go. We want him to be at peace with himself and with us. We want him to know he’s very much loved. Mostly, we just want him to pass in comfort, surrounded by love and gentle support.
I’m off to cry a little bit by myself so I can come back and be strong for him and for the family.