I spent 4 hours with him this afternoon/evening, and other than the bathroom thing (don't ask), he appears to be getting a bit better. Not so yellow. Not so bloated. Not so weak. As always, a little bit stubborn. And very picky about his meals.
He's not eating.
Today I managed to get him to chew and swallow an apple, peeled and sliced. And a small serving of butterscotch pudding with a generous amount of Haagen Das ice cream. We shared; Elizabeth, his roommate had some too. Hospital food really is gross.
I'd been there for two hours, chatting and reading, while sitting beside him - when all of a sudden he looked at me more closely.
"Is your name Jane Oh-and-a-bunch-more-syllables?"
"It sure is."
"And you are my daughter?"
"I sure am. I've been your daughter my whole life."
"And I am Pete Klassen."
"You bet."
"And I am your father."
"You are."
"How about that."
He's sharp, that ol man of mine.
Thanks for praying. Elizabeth had a visitor today. Her daughter stopped by for 5 minutes, and promised she'd be back tomorrow for a real visit.
And my mom?
She caught whatever flu is going around... she's still sick and weak, but hasn't vomitted for a few hours.
In case you're wondering how I'm coping, well, I've asked Mark to keep Max and Drew for the next few days. Seems I can only deal with one generation at a time. And, I'm dropping in at work whenever I can fit it in. I think I'll be wearing track pants and my gansta hoodie for the next week and my hair desperately needs a cut. I'm from Surrey and I look like it.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. I've spoken to just about all my parent's siblings at least once in the past 18 hours.
2. Track pants and fat hoodies
3. The awesome, wonderful, gentle, patient, kind, careful nurses that look after room 338.
Shalom,
1 comment:
And now it's midnight, and I'm worried again. Is he OK? Is mom OK?
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