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.


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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.


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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.