Ducks

A bit over a week ago, my mother had a resurgence of a medical condition that necessitated a hospital stay. My sister, who lives comparatively close by, went up right away to make sure that everything was taken care of properly. She did a beautiful job -- talking with Mom's doctors, making sure everything was in order, and most importantly, taking care of Daddy. 

As you'll recall, Daddy came down with COVID. We don't know where or how he caught it. What we do know, though, is that it drained a great deal of his little remaining time. Hospice has stepped up, but more help is clearly needed to ensure his comfort and safety. And so I flew northward, to take over for my sister and to tend to Daddy and to Mom after her release from the hospital. 

The travel was not as bad as I had feared, especially given that it was on short notice and over the week of Thanksgiving. Planes were on time, not horribly overcrowded, and people -- though a tad cranky here and here -- overall behaved just fine. The weather cooperated, more or less. It went as well as could be hoped.

The whole trip was astonishingly lonely. I have spent the past thirty-one years having Thanksgiving with Beloved Husband, one or more Offspring, and even Cherished Friend on occasion; this year, though, everyone else was dispersed elsewhere, and it was just me and my parents having a quiet meal together. I knew it was Daddy's last Thanksgiving. I did what I could to make it nice. 

Now that new medications have gotten Mom's medical condition under control, she is as vigorous as ever. I know it pains her to watch Daddy slowly slip away. It pains us all. The best we can do is to make sure that he is comfortable, and that he knows he is loved. 

It's not clear how much time Daddy has left.  Some days, he does not do well; other days, he does a bit better.  My sister has worked tirelessly over the past week to set up home health care, to ensure as much as possible that his time will be peaceful and comfortable, and that Mom is not overburdened by caregiving but can enjoy the remaining time with her husband of over 60 years. 

In the quiet hours after my parents went to bed, I had time to contemplate my own age and my own future -- what will it look like? When will I need help? How do I want things to be? Some hard questions, and so many unknowns. 

When I left to return to my corner of the desert, everything was put in order to have hospice and home health coordinate and be present regularly.  So all the ducks -- while not exactly in a straight line -- are at least no longer pecking, but swimming peacefully for now. 

We shall see how things unfold.

Rest easy, Daddy. We will take care of you as best we can.