It has been the season of saying a long, slow, sweet good-by to Hubby. Wednesday was hard. He slept the entire day, ate very little, was confused during the brief times of wakefulness. The sleeping, the not-eating I can handle; the confusion is frightening.
It seems that he makes a greater effort to be awake when we’re expecting visitors. And look who showed up on our front porch. Sis-in-law Cheryl and Niece Angie. Hubby has been more awake; he’s eating. And most importantly, no confusion. Ah, hope. Sweet gift.
And have these girls got plans for Hubby. For starters, homemade cream of mushroom soup for lunch. Fleece sheets. Fleece pajama bottoms. Fresh fruit. Chocolate-covered candies. Hubby doesn’t stand a chance.
Side note: SIL Cheryl was the one who invited me to her family reunion where I met her big brother. And you know the rest of that story.
And then this girl. Fresh off a flight that originated in Jersey. She’ll be indispensable to me. Because we are coming upon the time when I can no longer work from home—something my supervisor has graciously allowed—and I can no longer leave Hubby alone for a quick run to the pharmacy or grocery store.
Daughter Summer noted that her dad seems to be worse on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Her theory: There are no football games on those days.
Which means starting tomorrow, Hubby should be making a remarkable improvement. And Summer has graciously offered to assist with the pigskin therapy. (You’ve heard of art therapy and music therapy and dog therapy, right? Why wouldn’t there be such a thing as pigskin therapy?)
Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday and Monday. All football, all the time. There’s nothing this girl wouldn’t sacrifice for her dad.