Poppa... into the last days

I so want to write this. To me its golden.

If you have read any of the posts from my summer in Kentucky with Critter and Poppa, you know what kind of state he was in. Lucid days were not there when I came to town. Good days meant he wasn't worried about something, or wasn't scared of something, or didn't think he needed to be doing something, or we weren't walking around and around the yard going nowhere, yet everywhere.

He knew who he was, he knew what he did, he knew Critter was his daughter (even if she had to act a little crazy to get him to admit it). That pretty much covered it. He liked me being there, that felt SO good. He didn't like dirty dishes in the sink, didn't want hospice to help with his bath. He liked his hair combed. He liked to hold hands. I can not describe how innocent his light blue eyes were on a good day. Or how confused they would be on a off day. I can not describe how much I wanted to help.

I don't want to tell you that I cry just thinking about these days.

One Sunday Poppas brother came to visit, brought fresh green beans, corn on the cob, tomatoes and new potatoes from his garden. Plus a couple if double fist sized peaches so sweet and juicy Critter and I'd eat them sitting on the edge of the porch, juice dripping down our arms and off our elbows.

I cooked breakfast while everyone sat on the back porch enjoying the beautiful summer day. Poppa and his brother snapped all the beans, shucked the corn and talked as best they could. I had a horrid headache that kept me from enjoying the food I'd cooked. But Poppa ate, made his brother eat breakfast again. He was in a good mood.

Monday morning he didn't want to get up, it took some pressure from Critter and I. The rest of the day was pretty good, other than he opted to sit in his chair in the bedroom. Rather than sit outside with us.

Tuesday he got up that morning, still quiet. Afternoon nap came around and we tried everything, but he didn't want to get out of bed. A call to his little brother and sister-in-law brought them over and Alan talked him into getting up. He was weak, we'd had the wheel chair there the whole time. That night was the only time we used it.

The next morning everything was worse. He would hardly open his eyes, tho he was listening to us. We went from a straw to a sippy cup. "Alan IceCream" was all we could get him to eat.

We changed his bed every morning, watching for bed sores. We had even gotten pretty good at it, could get it all done before he became tired of us. We'd fuss over him, making sure the pillows were just so. Told him he was King. He would lift one hand and "dismiss" us. Which was always just to funny.

I was holding his hand one evening, massaging his fingers and palms. I told him how beautiful his hands were. He shook his hand loose, I thought he didn't want me to do it anymore. But he took my hand, and ever so slowly started massaging my fingers. This was something different, it was very deliberate. It took about 15 or so minutes to do my one hand. Then he let my hand go, and put his back in mine. I did as I was instructed, trying to get the pressure I applied even, paid close attention to how slow I went. When I finished the one hand, he gave me the other, and as I finished the last finger he was fast asleep.

I went to the back porch and told Critter what had happened. I said, its not the same. She shook her head, worry filled her face.

The next morning, we changed the bed as usual. I started the sheets on my side and pushed them as far towards the middle as I could, then we rolled Poppa over toward me. He would have my right arm tight in his left hand, and his right hand would grip my leg as I sat on the side of the bed. My left hand behind his back, he knew he wasn't going to fall out of the bed.

Critter on the other side of the bed, would pull the sheet from the middle and finish up the making of the bed. Then check on any sores in the making, and look for any new ones that might be coming up. She was sitting on the other side of the bed when she kinda squeals and says "what the fuck!". I was hanging on to Poppa and talking to him. I didn't have a clue what her problem was, until she said "the bed the bed!". Somehow I had managed to get the control pad for the bed under my ass and the bed was raising up. Critters ass was pinned between the mattress and the guard rail, she couldn't move.

I got Poppa to let go of my one arm so I could get to the controls. Critter and I were laughing so hard, and Poppa had a smirk on his face. I finally got Critters ass out of the jam it was in. Leaned it close to Poppa, both of us still laughing, and said "aren't you the luckiest man on earth, to have two complete idiots taking care of you?". One single good hard squeeze on my leg... ?? was that a "yes"? "Pop, are you telling me you'd rather have us two clowns here taking care of you, wouldn't you rather have two long legged, big busted, beautiful brunettes taking care of you?". Two good hard squeezes on my leg.. ?? no... did he just tell me NO? I went on.. just to make sure. Every time, either a single yes or a double no. He understood everything I said and was answering me. Critter and I are looking at one another in total disbelief.

We finished up, got his pillows all straightened out and as I was putting the dirty laundry in the wash, Critter was sitting beside her Poppa, talking with him, and he was talking back. She sensed he was getting tired and asked if it was about time to dismiss us. One good hard squeeze, she looks at me and said, "One good hard squeeze". Poppa didn't realize that she was relaying the message, he thought she was asking him to give her 'one good hard squeeze'... So he did a SQUEEZE pause SQUEEZE pause SQUEEZE. Critter said "Poppa, I was just telling Brat what you had said!" Then one gentle squeeze. It was Poppa, annoyed that we couldn't even get the "one squeeze two squeeze" down correctly! He came back and he stayed back until he left us completely for better places.