That's what Hospice calls it. And that is what my father is now officially "on". A long email last night from Hospice Nurse Ellyn saying he might have weeks now, or perhaps a month---was followed today by a panicked phone message from Terri while I was in the car coming back from Norwich but didn't get till I got home, saying Daddy's breathing is getting worse, about 20 second periods where he stops completely. I rang immediately. Spoke to Tammy the Hospice Nurse. The heart-wrenching cries and groans in the background I suddenly realized were coming from my father.
Tammy said 24-48 hours now, max.
Alex and I Face-timed on Terri's iPad. Their idea. Huge mistake. Signal not great at that end of the house. Vision not great either, of Odd in Deep Distress, lying down, eyes closed, crying out--from the POV of the iPad, giving us a great view of his diapers. Alex and I horrified and said NO! Not a good idea! We will ring on someone's cell and put it on speakerphone.
So I did, Alex being already half an hour late for work. I spoke to Daddy about the garden, how beautiful Walberswick was in the last afternoon sunshine, how lovely the flowers were looking, what a fine grandson he had, how proud he should be of him, how we are all fine, happy, and doing well, he doesn't need to worry about us, everything is perfect. And that we all loved him. And that the family in Norway loved him. I hope he heard me.
And I don't think I can write anymore now. Alex went off to work in tears, shaken. And I noiw have to call the funeral home to give themn a heads up in case he goes in the night.
Please please let him just go to sleep and that's it.
I need a glass of something. All I can hear are his cries.
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