Sad days as my father nears his end. The hospital are making him comfortable. I, with my mother and Paul, went to see him in hospital. He was more aware at first, much more than yesterday, eyes open, able to grunt a sound, but unable to speak or communicate beyond a gaze. For much of the time his eyes were closed, occasionally wincing at each cough. The machines were unplugged, his uncomfortable tubes removed. The radio we took last night was playing but mum decided to take it home. This saddened me as I thought more of his isolation, the tedious hours, this a fragment of home taken away; but I can understand because it was her mother's radio from 30 years ago or more, so it has a special meaning to her.
At home I continued slow work on the sheet music for Remembrance Service. My room is cold and the back of my nose is now tinny with an oncoming infection, sapping me yet more. Deborah is working for a few days but a wonderful comfort and constant support. How I love her. Paul is staying for a few more days. Everything is disrupted and abnormal. It's hard to plan or do a thing and my emotional and now physical malaise is sapping everything.
Everything is so sad. The thought of endless lonely hours over the past 2 weeks, my father seeing more medical staff than family or friends. We visit one or two hours every other day. He can't speak, except with his eyes, and I'm pleased that he at least did this to me. The first week in Stoke when he was completely alone - but we couldn't easily visit. Would a visit have helped?
This blasted cold! Coldness seems to be everywhere.
