A day of visitors but few words

Mum's cantankerous old cat excelled herself this morning by vomiting all over the lounge moments ahead of visitors arriving. She has been in disgrace all day since. Dad has been almost mute today. These visitors were a work friend of Dad's and his wife and although Dad communicated with hand-grabs, looks and eyebrows he didn't actually say a word. As soon as they left i said to Dad "It was nice to see them again wasn't it Dad?" Of course, it was at that point that Dad spoke and said "Yes". The Macmillan nurse came during the afternoon and couldn't really evaluate the effectiveness of the patch we put on Dad yesterday. She said it was better to reconsider the dose when we replace the patch (which will be Thursday) so we have seen it at its most effective. We are continuing with the oramorph too. I asked her if Dad is in the sort of condition that she would expect at this stage from her experience of melanoma (and other cancer) patients and she said he is. Dad's head is still fixed looking to the left. He doesn't seem in pain when he is still but when the nurses move him to wash him and change his pyjamas he makes such a face it looks like he is in agony. I find it really hard to see him like that, but the Macmillan nurse said not to worry that he is in a lot of pain as it is quite likely also an expression of displeasure at being moved around and messed with. He has never been a very touchy-feely person, so although that makes sense, it still worries us. He only does it when his head and neck are moved and the only other thing he said today was "Ouch!" when moved by the nurses in the evening, so i hope the full strength of the patch comes into effect soon. Partly because of the position of Dad's head and partly because he cannot understand verbal directions anymore we are now feeding Dad liquids only and through a plastic syringe. We have been told we can continue like this as long as he can reliably swallow, which he still can. Once he can no longer swallow a line can be hooked up to give him medicine and fluids.

Patchwork

I held the fort this morning while Mum played tennis with some friends. I like to give her opportunity to do something other than look after Dad. She has been looking after him for longer than i have afterall. After thrashing her opponents on the court, Mum went to the pharmacy to collect the patch prescribed by the doctor last night. We decided to put the patch on Dad as soon as we could. The packet was really fiddly to open and after struggling to get into it we pulled out a tiny postage-stamp-sized little sticker which we applied to the top of Dad's arm. Each patch lasts 72 hours but we have been warned that it will take about 24 hours for the patch to have any effect, so in the meantime we are continuing to give him the liquid morphine (six spoons a day) He is still holding his head firmly to the left and proving difficult to feed in this position; which must be uncomfortable. He hasn't said much again today except when this morning's nurse asked how he felt today Dad's response was "downhill"

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.

Screwdriver anyone?

A few days ago Dad asked Mum to go and get the screwdriver from his dressing gown pocket. She was fairly sure there wouldn't be one but went to check and there was no screwdriver or anything else in fact. It didn't seem to matter. Earlier today Dad surprised Mum when he was lying in bed and asked her again for a screwdriver. She asked what he wanted it for and he pointed at the television. My first thought when she told me was that it was alarming if Dad suddenly wanted to take a screwdriver to the television in an effort to repair it. Fortunately Mum was a bit quicker thinking and after a quick scramble about found and  gave Dad the television remote control which he seemed happy with. Of all the possible words, isn't it strange that 'screwdriver' is the first to pop into his head?
Dad's friends came to visit today as planned and he enjoyed seeing them. They had to come to his bedside though as he didn't get up today. Mum says he seems slightly less coherent each day but then shows moments of his old self. Apparently yesterday when the doctor asked if he knew where he was, Dad quickly replied "Ightham" with a look on his face that said 'if you don't know where you have come to see me, then what use are you?'

Cancer is a bastard

A year ago today a dear friend of mine died after a long and courageous struggle against bone cancer. He was 36. He was an amazing character, optimistic, fun-loving and clever. Everyone who met him loved him and he is sorely missed. Another friend and i went to visit him in hospital in Marseille about 10 days before he died. Today, incredulous that a year had already passed, we raised a glass to his memory.
Dad lost an old friend to cancer last year and Mum too. All of our friends struggled on for a while against this horrible disease and our experiences of being aware of the situation and wanting to know how things were going, but without intruding, are part of what made me want to write this blog.

Visitors

We’ve had lots of visitors recently. I think it is easy to not truly realise how loved you are until something horrible like this happens. Family and friends have changed their existing plans and created last-minute ones in order to pop in and see Mum and Dad over the past few weeks. Dad has especially enjoyed seeing everyone. It keeps him cheerful catching up with everyone and hearing what is going on in everyone else’s lives. He is thoroughly enjoying being sociable. It does tire him a bit though when everyone is coming and going, so Mum is being careful not to have too much going on in one day and Dad is getting some naps in. I am another keen visitor and have been able to establish a routine of working from home on Fridays, which means I am able to spend long weekends with Mum and Dad starting on Thursday evenings, often with a Chinese takeaway! My brother has been down frequently too and is often put to work changing lightbulbs and heading missions into the loft, to name a few. He has also kept us entertained with a history of spectacular defeats on the football field.