it has been 3 weeks and 4 days now since I found my dad, Gordon, nearly dead. Every day he speaks more and more. I am so thankful that he knows who I am. He understands everything happening he is just in this world of confusion since he has no recollection of what happened to him. He thinks he laid down to go to sleep because he wasn’t feeling well, and woke up in the hospital, unable to breathe, tubes in every hole of his body, unable to speak, unable to move. Over the weeks I think he understands almost everything. The neurologist says that the part of the brain that is severely damaged is the part that makes the body function.
He is still unable to swallow; so he now has a feeding tube in his stomach. I try not to mention food around him, because anyone that knows my dad, knows that he fucking loves food more than anything. That’s one of the main reason’s he is in the hospital…because he said he wanted to live his life eating what he wanted to eat; regardless of his Type 1 Diabetes or his blood sugar.
Gordon: “Well at least I’ll die happy. I’d rather die eating what I want to eat and be happy, than watching every bite I take and being miserable.” < I don’t think he realized how selfish he was being at the time. And if he would at least check his blood sugar and take his medicine accordingly, it would be better than nothing. Yeah I know I’m stuck in the past, talking about what he COULD or SHOULD have done…
He can lift his head now and most of his chest. Apparently last night he tried to get out of the bed, lifted up his head and chest, raised his left leg up, bent his knee over the side of his bed and the next thing you know my Oma heard: “Mom, Help me!” -sure enough, my dad was laying on his right side on the wood floor. So now they have moved him directly in front of the main nurses station some minor restraints.