Just a thought… Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring and integrity, they think of you. [H. Jackson Brown Jr.]
And it’s Monday; we made it through another Mother’s Day, but it’s my Dad who’s on my mind these days.
If you visit my Facebook or Instagram page (and thank you for that) you may have seen that I mentioned in connection with Nurses’ Day and Week that I’m grateful to the nurses at Kelowna General Hospital, especially Taylor, with whom I spoke briefly the other night.
My dad has been in there, first in a corner of the trauma ward and then in the Covid ward, for 10 days now. That’s a long time to be hospitalized in these days of scarce beds, which tells you what level of severity we’re talking. While Dad’s still on “room air,” as they call breathing without oxygen mask or intubation, his problem stems from a wicked infection that coincided with his Covid diagnosis. And so he’s become delusional. He thought it was 2013. And as much as I’d be happy to go back there myself, that’s not a good sign.
So we wait. My two sisters in the BC interior aren’t able to visit Dad because of Covid; does he know we want to visit or why we’re not there? Cindy and I are afar and awaiting any kind of news, like what happens next? He was living happily, mostly independently, until now, but if this infection double-whammy leaves deeper dementia in its wake, we’re talking about a whole new level of care.
The rumour mill has not a few, but dozens of cases of Covid in my dad’s residence. Of course, we’ll never know how or where he got it, but his lady friend also has it, and she’s missing my dad something fierce.
As I say, we all wait. Every morning I awaken to the dread of a message or a call with news I don’t want to hear, but am honestly expecting. Or, they are discharging him and we have to figure out what steps to take next in our father’s care.
All of this is so unfair. Not that Covid has hit our family; millions of children and loved ones have been through exactly what we’re experiencing right now. But that we’re being told to get on with our lives, and people are choosing not to mask, when the virus and its variants are still flexing their muscles. I know we can’t put life on hold forever, but when you weigh that against a life gone forever, it makes wearing a mask just such a small price to pay for someone else’s health.
I don’t know. Sorry not to be cheerier today. It’s just that kind – this kind – of week. I hope to be back with you Thursday.