Friday, August 17, 2012

Another Day.

"Pete Klassen," he says to me as I feed him.
"Yup, you're Pete Klassen," I say in agreement.
"Pete Klassen," he says again.
"My dad is Pete Klassen," I say as I slip a tiny spoonful of thickened cranberry juice into his mouth.
"Pete Klassen," he says again, as he waves away my hand with another spoonful of juice.
"Pete Klassen sure is a handsome guy, eh?" I say as I try my luck giving him a spoonful of thickened chocolate ensure.
"You look good too," he says. Then he turns purple, choking on that half a teaspoon of chocolate 'pudding'.
"Thanks," I reply. "Doug looks good too, don't you think?"
Doug, Dad's tablemate for meals, looks pleased with the compliment.
"Thank you very much for noticing," he responds.
"Pete Klassen," my dad says again. And again, and again. For the entire hour that it takes me to feed him 1/2 cup of juice, 1 cup of pureed borscht, 1/4 cup of pureed nectarines and 1/2 cup of thickened Ensure.

Over and over again, "Pete Klassen."
If his brain is a record album, then the needle got stuck on a scratch, the 'Pete Klassen' scratch.

We went for a walk around the building, checking out the action of each of the four floors.
"I like it when you come to visit me," he says as we make our way past the stinky bunny cages.
"I like visiting you," I say.
"Shuffleboard," he says as we roll past the shuffle board.
"Pussy cat," he says as we roll past a fat cat.
"Birds," as we go past the birds.
"Washroom," he READS on the door as we go past the washrooms next to the conference room. (Seriously? He's reading signs on doors now?)
"What time is it dad?" I ask him.
He looks at his watch. "Just coming up on 6:30 he notes." This still amazes me. He hasn't been able to tell the time for years.
We go for another lap around the main floor, going past the shuffleboard again.
"I think I would like to go home with you," he says.
"I think I would like to go to your place and watch a movie with you," I say. "Should we go up to the third floor?"
"Yes."

Mom has left Dances with Wolves in the DVD player, so I set that up for us.
I recline his wheelchair and put a fluffy pillow behind his head. He kicks off his slippers as I pull up a chair beside him.
"Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he says.
"They are?" I ask.
He nods.
He turns to look at me, "Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he says again.
"That'll be fun," I guess.
"Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he mentions again.
"Hmmm. Do you think they'll like the surprise?" I ask, not having a clue what he's talking about.
He shrugs.
"Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he repeats himself.
"A good surprise?"
Just then there's a close up of Kevin Costner on the TV screen.




"That's Kevin Costner," dad says. "He has a good moustache. They cut of MY moustache," he tells me in earnest.
"I know, but you can grow another one," I assure him.
"I want a BIG one," he tells me.
"And a big one you shall have," I say. "You can grow a huge one if you want."
"Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he says again.
"Who is? Kevin Costner is in for a big surprise?"
"Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise," he just repeats himself.

On the screen, all of a sudden there is a naked Kevin Costner.
He is caressing his butt. (Poor video of that 20 second scene is here, ignore the commentary.

Dad gazes at the screen and says in German, "He is nude."
Dad is not allowed to be nude. He must be dressed at all times.
Dad's moustache was shaved off.
He eats pureed foods that make him gag and choke.
Even though his brain is broken and the needle gets stuck in a scratch, he knows something is not right in his world.

He stops looking at the TV and looks at me.
"I love you dad," I say.
"I. Love. You. Too." he replies. "Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise."

It's 7 pm and time for me to go.
His care aide comes in and preps him for bed, chatting with him as she straightens the sheets.
"Bye dad," I say.
"Bye," he says back to me. "Boy, are they ever in for a big surprise."

I walk into the hallway and Doug is there, in his wheelchair, waiting for me.
"Is he going to be OK?" he asks. "If you need to give him a shower, you are welcome to use the one in my room. I'll be patrolling the perimeter for the next shift, so I won't be needing it." (He's sundowning again. His room does not have a shower, and there is no perimeter to patrol, just a hallway to roll up and down on.)

"Thanks, Doug, but he's already has his shower today, and he's going to bed now. Thanks for keeping an eye on things."
"You are very welcome, it's my pleasure. Say, can I talk to you about something?"
"Sure."
"As you know, I'm highly trained, but I mostly work with men. I'm not sure what to do about your mother-in-law. Am I expected to handle her? You can appreciate my hesitancy... it's really outside of my area of expertise."
"Oh, that's not a problem at all," I assured him. "I will look after her. Consider it done. She'll be my responsibility this evening."
"Thank you. Thank you very much. I appreciate your support in this matter. I've been worried how to handle her."

I give his shoulder a squeeze and tell him I'm thankful he's around.


Dear God,
Please give everyone in that facility a good, peace-filled rest this evening. Pour wisdom on the nurses, flood the care aids with compassion.

Give my mom the strength to keep on keeping on. And heal her sore and aching arthritic joints so that she feels relief from the neverending pain.

That's all for tonight.
Except thank you. Thank you for creating music. Thank you for knowing that some of us have a hard time saying worshippy things to you... thank you for knowing that music would bypass our brains and allow our hearts to sing words of adoration to you. That was a good idea you had.

How Great is Our God?
Chris on the piano.


Amen.

Three FIVE things I'm thankful for:

1. Drew and his friend Karsten popped in for their second supper around midnight. Yay for having a meal on hand.

2. Forgiveness.

3. Faith that God is Good.

4. My dad loves me and thinks I look good. :)

5. A whole bunch of new music that successfully got transferred from Maureen's computer (thanks, M) to my external hard drive, to my laptop, to my iPhone. Easy Peasy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.



Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.




1 comment:

Bob Kuhn said...

Jane;

Very nice piece. Brought back memories of visiting my dad in the same kind of facility with the same kinds discussions. One day, just after I was finished explaining that I would be leaving on a long motorcycle trip,I asked him the question, "any advice for me dad?". He responded after thinking for a few minutes, "yeah, don't be stupid". Best advice you can give for a motorcyclist.

Bob