Howling wind and the killer ditch

Today has been a quiet day, apart from the wind howling down the chimney. The nurses have come and gone. Dad's shave this morning was far simpler than the other day, partly because his beard wasn't nearly so established, but also i think, because the nurse shaving him was a 'no nonsense' type. Different nurses visit each time and some we are starting to recognise. The ones who have visited before have started to park down in the village square and walk up the lane rather than attempt to navigate the perilous drive and the killer ditch.
Mum was invited to a friend's for coffee and i convinced her to go. I kept on top of work from the armchair near Dad's bed while he listened to the radio and watched some television. The pharmacy finally got hold of Dad's medicines in liquid form today, so Mum collected them. These will be easier for Dad to take than the pills. We now have to work out and write down the equivalent amounts to make sure we get the dose of each correct.

Lazy Bones

When i arrived last night Mum told me Dad had been in bed all day and the whole of the day before. I jokingly refer to him as 'lazy bones' when i see him in bed and on arriving last night, popped my head around the bedroom door to ask if he'd be joining us for dinner and eventually he did. With the return of his other symptoms (headaches and confusion) i think Dad's staying in bed is a result of his increasing passivity, rather than stubbornness. He seems to find it difficult to judge the passing of time. He can sit in one spot, with nothing to read, or without conversation, for a lot longer than he ever would have done before. Mum initially mistook Dad's reluctance to get up for stubbornness. She has the bedside manner of an angry elephant at the best of times, so there have been a few tense moments. We have learnt to give Dad oodles of extra time to get ready to go anywhere, especially appointments.
Dad had a measuring-session with the radiotherapy department today, in preparation for his next radiotherapy for the metastasis on his left side. He couldn't remember his birth date when asked (and laughed naughtily!) but was quick to recite the first line of his address. They have tattooed a tiny dot under his skin which they will align with other markers to ensure the radiotherapy is precisely targeting the metastasis. The radiotherapy will take place over 3 days next week.
Dad is mostly cheerful at the moment. He gets more pain in his head, but the oramorph seems to take care of that, for several hours at a time fortunately, so he is not taking much. He is sporting a bit of a silver-fox beard at the moment, which is strange to us as well as him as he has been clean-shaven his whole life. He is increasingly confused. Mum said she returned home from shopping yesterday to find him speaking on the phone. He said he was talking to the health insurance company and passed the phone to her. Mum found herself explaining the situation to a very confused insurance company employee as apparently Dad had called her, but behaved as if she had called him. He called his mother in the middle of the night a few months ago when he first had these symptoms too. In fact, Dad is sitting with me looking through the paper as i type this and he has just reached out, grabbed the phone and pressed a few buttons before putting it down again, so clearly it is something that attracts his interest. If you receive any strange late night calls from us we apologise in advance!