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I've been focused on my self-esteem, and I just got a reminder that there is a bigger game here. Kay was calling me. Pop is not doing okay. He is in his room trying to get dressed, but he can barely talk, much less put on his clothes. He turns down what used to always be a sure answer to his low ebbs: he doesn't want orange juice. Despite his frail condition, he even gets a little upset over the offer of help. He says, "I just got to get my brain to function." But that doesn't seem to be going well.
This is a new one on me. His two worst episodes have been when Kay is here. She seems to take it out of him. He finally accepted some lemonade, and one can only hope that he just needs to gets some sugar in his blood and everything will go back to normal. Yet, it's hard not to think that the end is much nearer than I would care to realize. Like maybe this weekend.
It's not as though we are just talking about the loss of a father. It promises to be the end of me as well. We might as well be Siamese twins: if he goes down, what can I do?
This is a new one on me. His two worst episodes have been when Kay is here. She seems to take it out of him. He finally accepted some lemonade, and one can only hope that he just needs to gets some sugar in his blood and everything will go back to normal. Yet, it's hard not to think that the end is much nearer than I would care to realize. Like maybe this weekend.
It's not as though we are just talking about the loss of a father. It promises to be the end of me as well. We might as well be Siamese twins: if he goes down, what can I do?
