Give my father sunshine on his face, a NY Times for his lap, enough to eat and drink, and he's happy. The nursing home - after all these years - doesn't realize this.
Whenever I'm there, I look for a sunny spot for him to sit, and he sometimes looks downright blissful. And when the staff notices, they remark upon how much he loves the sun. And I renew the request to please park him in the sun. But they don't.
He has an aide afternoons during the week, and I've asked her so many times to take him outside to sit in the sun. She ignores me. Once she told me he asked her to take him into the sun - and she said he shouldn't be in the sun because it's bad for him. I asked her to please do it anyway, that it's really good for him.
I reminded Thelma that my father is 96, he's been in the sun all his life because he loves it, and even if he gets skin cancer now, what does it matter. (I took him to a dermatologist because when he could get around, he'd sit in the sun all year round and get really tanned. He has no skin problems.)
When I visit I try to find sunshine for him.
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.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
nap in the late afternoon sun
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment