In his closet, my father had a pair of shoes that weren't his. They were a few inches shorter than his. I wonder if the aides had been putting them on him, and that's why his feet were like this. Anyway, now that he's got very sore heels, my father's toes show. I had no idea they looked like this. They must be painful, but he says no.
(I gave the shoes to the nurses.)
(He's wearing the heel protectors because of sores - from rubbing his heels against the sheets. He spent more time than usual in his bed because he fractured his femur nearly two weeks ago.)
One of the residents tonight saw my father's toes and tears came into her eyes. She's one of my favorite people. I'm not surprised she had so much empathy. She had a stroke, I think, and can't get sentences and words out. I kept reassuring her that my father said he wasn't feeling any pain.
My father died peacefully on February 6, 2012. I had arrived a few hours before he died, so I had time to sit by him and talk and even moisten his lips with the long-promised scotch I had with me. I don't know if he heard me, but he smacked his lips from the scotch, My father had Alzheimer's and had donated his brain to the Alzheimer's study he'd been part of at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center. I'll continue to post for a while.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
L9998722
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