16 hours of sleep last night. Up at 12:30 pm today. Bathroom, shower, brunch, nap right after that. Up once about 7 pm this evening to use the bathroom. Still sleeping...and it's 9:45 pm.
That says it all to me. My dad's body is tired. Really tired. As I type this, I hear him in the room next to me. He is talking. I can't really make out what he is saying, but he is talking away. I think he is dreaming a lot, and sometimes when he does get up, the dream is still there and it is real to him. Like when he was going swimming the other morning - or when we had the fire in the house - or when he's going golfing - and like this evening when he called my husband, dad. I would love to know his dreams. Is he remembering things? Is he visiting with old friends and family? Is he just out having a good time?
He's not talking any more. He's crying.
Such a terrible disease. What a way for him to spend this day. I think of all the other ways he could be spending his time. It could be a lot worse, I know. But somehow, that doesn't seem to be helping this sadness I have for him at this moment. I just hate this disease.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment