Sitting on top of the world

Dad spent most of the day in a hospital recliner instead of a hospital bed. This may not seem like much of a difference. It didn't seem like much of a difference to me, until he moved into the chair, and I saw his energy level jump up, as if a switch had been flipped. I guess there's something about getting out of bed that tells the mind, "Wake up!" It was definitely more work, being in the chair. He took a couple of naps, and looks like he's ready for a good night's sleep.

His right hand was more stable today. Friday and Saturday, it had a pronounced shake, often at rest. Today, he was drinking from a cup with hardly a tremor. He'd also been doing a lot of aimless fidgeting with the right hand. That seemed to have abated some today. (Although even now he's holding his cell phone and tapping it a bit as he drifts off.)

Marty visited again today, and Mom spent several hours in the room with Dad. He expressed his frustration to her. It was only a few words and some tears, but it was the first clear, emotional communication from him. Of course it's sad to see the toll on him. But the silver lining is that it shows so much about his understanding of the situation. We can't whisk away the frustration, but at least we know better where he's coming from.

We learned that Dad's hair-combing game remains strong, and that he has a good foundation for tooth-brushing. We learned that my give-someone-else-a-shave-with-hospital-razors game is weak. So weak that, with less than a third of his face even touched, Dad grabbed a washcloth and started wiping off shaving cream. We'll try again tomorrow with an electric razor. In the meantime, no, you can't see pictures of the Mangy Two-Face look I gave him.