Friday, November 10, 2006

Brain tumour is taking over


Off I go and trundle Dad down to his dinner room. His brain tumour is growing on the left side of his brain, the scar from the staples still evident three years later. Dad is slipped over on his right side. I cannot feed him in this position. I ask a support worker to help me prop him up, now that I know how to do it with another person. When she walks into the room with me Dad seemed to say, “Bitch.” but I am not sure! I keep carrying on.
I put on the radio but cannot get a clear station. This room is used for crafts and visits from family and friends. I could have had the radio on all these months. Often the residents are in front of the TV just before dinner and I cannot choose a channel that I would prefer to news. As staff slowly wheel residents into the dining room, I often pop in this anteroom to change channels, if Dad doesn’t miss me. He gets upset when I disappear.
It is veal for dinner. It looks like meat and so I hope Dad will eat it. I brought him an orange, as there is never any fresh fruit around at dinnertime. I am trying to cut back on protein myself and think that sharing an orange will be good for us. When he saw it he says, “That’d be nice!” Dad munched a bit and says, “Did you wave to her?”
I reassure him, “Yes!” although I am not sure about his meaning.
“Did they say anything about half -past?” He is in a world of his own. One just must respect that. He refused the veal, although it is breaded and stuffed and seemed quite nice. I tried a piece, thinking it will incite him to eat. No dice. “Sorry about that.” he says.

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