Mr. Surprise Man

My father’s innate will to live never ceases to amaze me. Just now, my sister wrote to say that he’s eating relatively normally — that’s relative to him since he’s not much of a big eater — and that he’s off the IV for now. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not reading too much into this latest development. But the thought that he might look and feel better when I see him tomorrow afternoon compared to Sunday when I last saw him does lead me to dub my father Mr. Surprise Man.

Names that Make Me Wonder

Shit! I hate it when I have an idea for a post but can’t post it. The Bar Hopper, Poupoune and I laughed hysterically last Saturday night recalling absolutely terrible names for people. But I can’t post them because they’re real, live people. It does make me wonder, though, what would make some people bestow or assume such horrific names.

Shouldn’t Leave You Hanging

For a few days I’ve been meaning to post something new, since my previous entry is definitely a downer — not exactly setting the most welcoming tone for aMMusing

Being the workaholic that I am, I’ve had to rearrange my work week, which I’ve been doing without hesitation whatsoever. Indeed, for the time being, I am travelling every Saturday morning to Moncton and coming back to Halifax Sunday evening. The weather has been cooperating: the rain that’s predicted for this coming weekend, though not as pleasant as sunshine, doesn’t prevent travel as would snow. The mercury has gone above the freezing point every day this week, so it’s astonishing how much snow has melted from the Blizzard of ’04. And the highways are in pretty good shape (not counting the potholes and frost heeves).

My father’s condition is stable, though always on a downward slope. It’s a very soft slope, though. Today I found out that he really needs the oxygen he’s been given. After a little test of reducing, then eliminating, his artificial oxygen intake, he quickly became faint, leading my sister who’s knowledgable about such things to comment that he would likely fall into a coma without it. My sister, who lives in the Ottawa area, managed to pull together two weeks of vacation time to be in Moncton. As a physiotherapist, she can claim, unlike the other kids or even Mom, that she can actually physically do something to help make Dad more comfortable, namely, but not exclusively, massaging him in such a way to facilitate his coughing. But she’s also of great help to Mom, whom I hope is taking advantage of Sis’s visit to have the doctor look after a few things she’s been neglecting because of all that’s happening with Dad.

I’ve been very touched by the support and kind words I’ve received from friends, online acquaintances and even my clients. You know who you are, and if I haven’t had a chance to respond to you, do know that I appreciate your support very much. Some of you have lived through losing a loved one; I’ve been relatively fortunate until now.

I spent quite a bit of time this evening chatting on the phone with BeeGoddessM. Everyone who knows me well knows that I’ve always been closer to my mother than my father. But that’s the product of how my mother has enough personality to fill three rooms, whereas my father has always been the quiet worry wart. Recognizing this, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m wanting to celebrate my father’s life, and how the tales I’m recalling are of subtle happenings which, although almost always silent, are resonating so loudly these days in my mind and my heart. Yes, I’ve got a big grin on my face right now just thinking about it. Eventually — gradually — I’ll tell you some of those stories. Their simplicity makes them quite disarming.