Two weeks ago we received a call that Peggy's dad was in the hospital. He had fallen. He had experienced a stroke. He was in bad shape. Touch and go. Don't come they said. This won't be long.
Then he hung on, drifted further off. It looked like the end.
Please come the Family Said. Bring a suit. So I did. So did all the brothers in law. They came from Nebraska and Ohio. We drove from IL.
We drove to Fargo ND. He was just barely there. His body yes. HIM...no.
THEN, he rebounded. Not unusual for terminal patients. To make a short term recovery.
Yes he drifted away on Monday again. But hung on. Tuesday he came back and on Wednesday we took him to his home town hospital where he is now.
He is alert. Not always lucid. Can't feed himself, can't walk, can't do his own toilet, can't dress himself. But he CAN talk. He wants to go home. I understand that. But he can't. He may never.
The next time we make that trip back I suspect I will have to wear that suit.
1 comment:
I'm glad he gets a little more time. It's an old story and you know it, but I'll retell it for me. He helped my dad build his house, a half century ago, along with a group of neighborhood men. There was a running joke that my dad still had his saw. After my dad's funeral, he wrapped me in a big hug, sobbing and not caring who knew, and said "That goddam bastard still has my saw."
Some people leave bigger holes when they go, because they were such a large presense when they are here. I hope you drag that suit back to the Dakotas a dozen more times before he gives it up.
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