Old Brain's Party Plan

Dad was quite chatty this morning. While i was feeding him breakfast he quietly said "Old Brain" I'm not sure what exactly that meant but he nodded and raised an eyebrow very seriously, as if it was something wise i should take note of. During the morning, when Mum was out collecting another prescription and i was sitting here dealing with work emails, Dad suddenly said "We'll have to make sure someone is responsible for drinks" I thought 'eh?' and asked which drinks. Dad told me we were having a party on Saturday and my brother should be in charge of the drinks. This was news to me (and Mum!) He hasn't said anything since that, but has just been sitting back in bed staring into nothingness. That 'party' conversation is the nearest any of us has got to having a conversation with Dad in weeks, so although it was meaningless really, it was nice. He has had a few moments of absence today where he has stared straight through me while i spoke to him and waved in front of him. I've also noticed that his right hand has jerked around on two separate occasions, like a local seizure of the hand alone and only lasting 10 seconds. It was especially obvious as his hand was flapping against today's newspaper. He is snoozing now. Drug-wise, yesterday we increased Dad's dose of morphine from three 5ml teaspoons a day to four teaspoons. He seems to be in more pain today again, so i'm not sure at what rate we should increase it, but the community nurse who is coming tomorrow will advise us. Dad is still on 8mg of dexamethasone daily.

Best laid plans

With so many people around but for a limited time, i asked my Aunt to take Mum out for lunch today while they went to the shops, to give Mum a break. I assured them both that i could hold the fort here and put Grandma to work as necessary. Sadly this brilliant plan wasn't quite to be. Dad's GP called and suggested he would pop round as well as a community nurse. Mum felt she'd rather be present to see what each had to say, so only went to the shops much later in the end, well beyond lunchtime.
The doctor reassured us that the advice of the Macmillan system was correct. For a period early last week when Dad seemed to dip, there was a debate where the Macmillan advice had been to reduce Dad's steroids further but the specialist had advised increasing them. Mum wasn't sure who to believe. The doctor today confirmed our belief that the specialist did that in the hopes Dad would be restored significantly again with a higher dose. Sadly this hasn't happened so the next step will be the reduction again of Dad's steroids. The nurse seemed only to have came to introduce herself and enjoyed a cup of tea.
Dad slept in the afternoon while i kept on top of work email, my Uncle read the paper and Grandma leafed through some books. Mum and my Aunt returned home with a two-way baby radio which was promptly assembled and played with. Mum is worried that she won't hear if something happens in the night, now that Dad sleeps downstairs. So now, instead of complaining about Dad's snoring, she plans to go to bed eagerly listening for it.
We are getting used to nursing teams coming and going throughout the day. The morning session seems to be around 9am and the evening visit around 7pm. We have requested the evening visit happens earlier though as 7pm has proved to be the time we all get hungry. The nurses are all very friendly but Dad is still getting used to all these relative strangers messing with him. Some of them cope better with Dad's friendly resistance than others.

Another Doctor

Dad has declined notably over the past week, even with an increased dose of steroids and now morphine. The days when he does not get out of bed are slowly starting to outnumber the days that he does. His appetite has vanished too and Mum has resorted to buying Dad's favourite biscuits, cakes and treats in order to tempt him to eat anything at all. This change in him provoked the Macmillan nurse to bring a doctor with her when she visited today. (Dad's specialist is on holiday this week and she wanted a doctor's opinion.) In evaluating Dad, the doctor asked Dad a few questions, most of which Dad gave complicated non-sensical answers to. Mum had been worried it might have been the effect of the morphine, but unfortunately the doctor confirmed this was due to the progress of the disease. I hate him being so muddled. It seems impossible that it is really him. I wait for him to tell me he is pulling my leg, an assurance that never comes. The doctor recommended we increase the dose of morphine to eliminate Dad's headaches. He also suggested the radiotherapy scheduled to start tomorrow may bring Dad discomfort outweighing the possible (but not guaranteed) benefits. So Mum is going to call the specialist tomorrow to see what he advises. Dad has some old friends coming to visit tomorrow, who he is looking forward to seeing. Will he or won't he get out of bed for them i wonder?