Father’s in hospital. He’d had a seizure, so Laura called 911. They say he’ll be there for a few days. As it turns out, they’d misjudged how much medication he needs to control the seizures. He’s now on 5 tablets rather than 2 per day.
Today I saw Father at the hospital. He was curled up in a ball on his hospital bed. Laura said, “Justin’s here.” He looked and asked me how I was doing. Not bad, I said, and how was he. “Not worth a shit,” he replied. Laura and I fed him some Tim Horton’s coffee by way of straw. We had some small talk for a while. He asked where the bathroom was – number two – but Laura said he could just use his nappies. Not very appealing, I know, but I dare say he’s used to that by now. He asked, “How’s your old mother doing?” I said she was a little slow but doing the best she can and that Floyd was getting a little slower these days but in good health.
When I got back, he was getting a little sleepy. I offered him some more coffee. I put the straw to his lips, but he didn’t respond, so I just put my hand on his head and told him … some sort of well-being wishes – can’t remember what. Laura and I talked for a bit, and then it was time to go. I gave his shoulder a hug, hissed his head, told him I love him and to take care, and left.