wow I'm finding that if I don't write each night, I forget what I wanted to say. Yesterday, Tuesday, it seemed like all I did was clean up spills. John knocked over a soda on the coffee table and it ran down onto the rug and magazine, photos, books. He did a good job getting most of it up and didn't ask for help. Was able to save everything.
Later in the evening, John was pulling back the covers on the bed and had a stadium cup of water in his.....right hand. The next thing I knew......drip, splash. John's hand had slacked and he didn't even know he was pouring water into the bed. When I called his name and he turned, the water went on the rug and floor. He stood in it in his sock feet. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I soaked up as much as I could, pulled the covers away, separated the wet sheets...blah, blah, blah. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I was mad at myself for being mad at him. He couldn't help it. But after everything was back to normal, I told him no more cups without lids!
We got out and walked a block to where the dogs live. They were out. Thank goodness I remembered the doggie treats. The lady who owns the dogs came out and told us their names are Bear and Brandy.
A different Hospice nurse came today. She is the first to measure his bulge and the area that keeps bleeding. I asked how he is to stand since one side is weak. He should put his weight on his left/good side when getting up and going up stairs.
John doesn't even try to use his right hand when eating any more and meals actually go better because he isn't struggling over which hand to use. When he's really tired, the right side of his body droops.
Two loads of laundry done. Cleaned all the ceiling fans. Feeling productive.
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