I saw my friend Jim. . .
in the hospital on Tuesday before Thanksgiving. He is very frail. I was glad to see that there were no tubes in his throat and I expected to hear some utterance from him but none came.
Jim is in the standard hospital gown and is covered by s sheet only. He has nothing on his feet or head. I probed a bit to see if he was cold. He was able to move his head side to side and I took that for a no. He is in isolation because of the c-def and MRSA bugs he has picked up in him almost constant hospital stays for the past six months or so. These bugs are anti-biotic resistant and are the scourge of the hospital system.
It took some time for me to get connected with him. At first I was in a one way conversation. Then I pulled out the gig gun - Godiva Chocolate liqueur. I transfered a drop from the miniature bottle to his lips on the tip of my finger. A switch came on. He was still unable to speak but he was responsive with his eyes and could move his head appropriately for yes or no questions. He go two more drops. He then became weary and was drifting away from me. By evening I had heard that he had been moved to the rehab facility nearby. By late evening I felt the onslaught of a virus cold. That has put me pretty much out of commission until today, Saturday. My family is all away visiting and having stay overs. I am fine in my hermitage.
Jim was up and dressed for Thanksgiving. It was a surprise for Wilma. She visited with one of her local sons. They watched the NFL game. Jim dozed. It was just like watching at home with him.
I spoke with one of Jim' daughters this evening. She is quite concerned about being here for Jim, or her mom. I had to let her know that if she is going to be here, it will be for herself, a much less complicated position to be in. She lives very far away as do her older siblings. The years have brought strained and distant relations for them all. So, best to drop any pretense of a trip here being for mom or dad. It is now OK to take this on for yourself and for no other reason.
I was far away when both my mom and dad died. I had seen them shortly before and was comfortable with keeping my watch from afar. My sister took on the responsibility of the last days and hours. When I was very young and I stayed over with my grandmother a lot, it was not unusual for me visit and sit overnight with a passing relative. It was not an unusual occurrence to be an observer on the edge of those events. It was still a time when a body was tended even before the undertaker arrived to prepare the deceased for a funeral in the front room of the house and ne'r the the thought of a trip to the mortuary or the a church. On some occasions, the burial was on the ground of the farm home. It was the end of an age.
More later.
Jim is in the standard hospital gown and is covered by s sheet only. He has nothing on his feet or head. I probed a bit to see if he was cold. He was able to move his head side to side and I took that for a no. He is in isolation because of the c-def and MRSA bugs he has picked up in him almost constant hospital stays for the past six months or so. These bugs are anti-biotic resistant and are the scourge of the hospital system.
It took some time for me to get connected with him. At first I was in a one way conversation. Then I pulled out the gig gun - Godiva Chocolate liqueur. I transfered a drop from the miniature bottle to his lips on the tip of my finger. A switch came on. He was still unable to speak but he was responsive with his eyes and could move his head appropriately for yes or no questions. He go two more drops. He then became weary and was drifting away from me. By evening I had heard that he had been moved to the rehab facility nearby. By late evening I felt the onslaught of a virus cold. That has put me pretty much out of commission until today, Saturday. My family is all away visiting and having stay overs. I am fine in my hermitage.
Jim was up and dressed for Thanksgiving. It was a surprise for Wilma. She visited with one of her local sons. They watched the NFL game. Jim dozed. It was just like watching at home with him.
I spoke with one of Jim' daughters this evening. She is quite concerned about being here for Jim, or her mom. I had to let her know that if she is going to be here, it will be for herself, a much less complicated position to be in. She lives very far away as do her older siblings. The years have brought strained and distant relations for them all. So, best to drop any pretense of a trip here being for mom or dad. It is now OK to take this on for yourself and for no other reason.
I was far away when both my mom and dad died. I had seen them shortly before and was comfortable with keeping my watch from afar. My sister took on the responsibility of the last days and hours. When I was very young and I stayed over with my grandmother a lot, it was not unusual for me visit and sit overnight with a passing relative. It was not an unusual occurrence to be an observer on the edge of those events. It was still a time when a body was tended even before the undertaker arrived to prepare the deceased for a funeral in the front room of the house and ne'r the the thought of a trip to the mortuary or the a church. On some occasions, the burial was on the ground of the farm home. It was the end of an age.
More later.
posted by Lantern Bearer @ 8:04 PM
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