I’m sitting here knitting, thinking of the people who have written and called. Many people think that ”Hospice Care” means a person is imminently dying, but that kind of late referral is only one reason.
Tom is still here, and the Hospice support is wonderful. I asked for it early, getting a hospital bed, a weekly nurse visit, twice-a-week bath aide, so I don’t get overwhelmed, and it really does make a difference. We go to bed and sleep very early. I can get 8-9 hours sleep, and then have the quiet hours from 4-7 AM all by myself.
Hester and Len came for supper last night. Today we are going to Benihana for lunch, partly to be out of the way while Aurelia cleans. Tom, (son) Ed Carpenter, Bets Stover, Virny Maxam, several other friends plus an agency person eight hours a week, come in and take over so I can go off. And Tom can be on his own when he’s just napping or sitting in his chair.
He’s very much himself and has been since the awful “hospital psychosis” wore off. So the days go on. The broken dogwood branch was just hanging on by enough of a thread that when I cut pieces off, they went and bloomed, bravely.
From May 3 – This bed of Rue
There’s something about a wild flower, in the shade out back by the trash shed, coming up year after year, that’s heartening. I don’t know where I found it, but I put it in there probably in the late ‘60’s.
We have another week of sun starting. The chard I planted along with several other sets of seeds has germinated already. Tom is doing a bunch of exercises as I write, ones he made up himself that he can do in his rocking-chair.
New patterns turn up. One of them for me is going down the hill to QFC at 6:30 or 7, before Tom wakes up, doing a shopping, getting a coffee, and sitting for a while doing my Sudoku, enjoying the anonymity, watching people start their day.
One of our helpers yesterday brought Tennyson’s Ulysses to read aloud to Tom. I’ve put it in my journal so I won’t lose it and can read it to him myself later.