Days in the Sun
Monday, May 24th, 2004 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tamaranthWeekend:
After a horribly early start, Saturday was most enjoyable: it was a gloriously sunny morning in Plymouth, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pugwash and the Snake and I went to the cafe at the Plymouth Yacht Haven for a slap-up breakfast before heading for the boat.
A lovely afternoon sailing to and fro on the Sound: then we dropped anchor at Barn Pool, at the foot of Mt Edgcumbe Park on the Cornish side of the river, and had a few beers in the Edgcumbe Arms -- nice quiet riverside pub, at least until the Cremyll Ferry disgorged a boatload of common folk from Plymouth. Back to Sea Spear for dinner and an early night, in preparation for our 3am relocation when the skipper woke up and decided there wasn't enough water under the keel.
Sunday was spent industriously acquiring comedy sunburn: the sea breeze and Joshua Slocum (Sailing Alone Around the World) distracted me from the realisation of how long I'd been lying in the sun. Now I look like a bandicoot.
Back to Plymouth, where Family Stuff awaited. If you're sick of me complaining, skip this.
Sister had forgotten that I was visiting, so we only had Sunday evening together: perhaps in order to make me miss her less, she was in argumentative mode.
For example:
Sister: "Have you had your bath fixed yet?"
Me: "No, it'll mean taking time off work and I'd rather not."
Sister (with scornful laugh): "Don't be daft! You've just had all of last year off!"
Me (forbearing to explain difference between 'time off' and freelance work): "Yes, but the bath didn't need fixing until just before Christmas."
Sister: "Oh."
We went to see my father on Sunday evening but he wasn't at his best (unresponsive, drooling and paralysed). Then we went back and watched 'Armageddon', in which Bruce Willis gives his life to save America and the rest of the world, and his daughter, played by Liv Tyler, is allowed to hang around at Cape Canaveral and use valuable mission resources bidding a moving farewell to her daddy. You know you've got it bad when you're identifying with Liv Tyler's character in a movie. With the possible exception of Arwen.
Monday: spent a pleasant morning on my own, thinking about the things I should be doing back at home. For the first time since the stroke that stopped him living at home, I considered simply not visiting my father before I got the train: no one would know, he probably wouldn't notice, etc. But of course he might be having a good day ... Had a little guilt trip over even considering the possibility, and went over to the nursing home.
If anything he was worse -- just stared at me blankly when I spoke to him, and was searching compulsively for something on the floor. It was like watching a caged animal. I read through his medical file: "no new problems", "no new problems", "no new problems". Because this is the way things are for him now. For the first time I cut a visit short (luckily the café at Plymouth Station is tolerable): I was too upset to stay any longer. On the bright side, at least he didn't get distressed at the sight of me crying.
I don't know how much longer he will go on this way, gradually declining, some good days amongst the bad so that I can't simply stop visiting. I don't think I could stop, anyway. This husk used to be my father, who loved life, who'd have loved to be out on the water in the sunshine, eyeing the yachts gathering for the Transatlantic Race. I loved my father very much, and I don't want to deny him the pleasure he sometimes seems to feel when I visit. I don't know if I'll be able to tell when he's gone beyond that: when he's recognised me, smiled at me, for the last time. It breaks my heart that we might already be past that point.
Fingers crossed for next time, and the time after, and the time after that.
After a horribly early start, Saturday was most enjoyable: it was a gloriously sunny morning in Plymouth, and
pugwash and the Snake and I went to the cafe at the Plymouth Yacht Haven for a slap-up breakfast before heading for the boat. A lovely afternoon sailing to and fro on the Sound: then we dropped anchor at Barn Pool, at the foot of Mt Edgcumbe Park on the Cornish side of the river, and had a few beers in the Edgcumbe Arms -- nice quiet riverside pub, at least until the Cremyll Ferry disgorged a boatload of common folk from Plymouth. Back to Sea Spear for dinner and an early night, in preparation for our 3am relocation when the skipper woke up and decided there wasn't enough water under the keel.
Sunday was spent industriously acquiring comedy sunburn: the sea breeze and Joshua Slocum (Sailing Alone Around the World) distracted me from the realisation of how long I'd been lying in the sun. Now I look like a bandicoot.
Back to Plymouth, where Family Stuff awaited. If you're sick of me complaining, skip this.
Sister had forgotten that I was visiting, so we only had Sunday evening together: perhaps in order to make me miss her less, she was in argumentative mode.
For example:
Sister: "Have you had your bath fixed yet?"
Me: "No, it'll mean taking time off work and I'd rather not."
Sister (with scornful laugh): "Don't be daft! You've just had all of last year off!"
Me (forbearing to explain difference between 'time off' and freelance work): "Yes, but the bath didn't need fixing until just before Christmas."
Sister: "Oh."
We went to see my father on Sunday evening but he wasn't at his best (unresponsive, drooling and paralysed). Then we went back and watched 'Armageddon', in which Bruce Willis gives his life to save America and the rest of the world, and his daughter, played by Liv Tyler, is allowed to hang around at Cape Canaveral and use valuable mission resources bidding a moving farewell to her daddy. You know you've got it bad when you're identifying with Liv Tyler's character in a movie. With the possible exception of Arwen.
Monday: spent a pleasant morning on my own, thinking about the things I should be doing back at home. For the first time since the stroke that stopped him living at home, I considered simply not visiting my father before I got the train: no one would know, he probably wouldn't notice, etc. But of course he might be having a good day ... Had a little guilt trip over even considering the possibility, and went over to the nursing home.
If anything he was worse -- just stared at me blankly when I spoke to him, and was searching compulsively for something on the floor. It was like watching a caged animal. I read through his medical file: "no new problems", "no new problems", "no new problems". Because this is the way things are for him now. For the first time I cut a visit short (luckily the café at Plymouth Station is tolerable): I was too upset to stay any longer. On the bright side, at least he didn't get distressed at the sight of me crying.
I don't know how much longer he will go on this way, gradually declining, some good days amongst the bad so that I can't simply stop visiting. I don't think I could stop, anyway. This husk used to be my father, who loved life, who'd have loved to be out on the water in the sunshine, eyeing the yachts gathering for the Transatlantic Race. I loved my father very much, and I don't want to deny him the pleasure he sometimes seems to feel when I visit. I don't know if I'll be able to tell when he's gone beyond that: when he's recognised me, smiled at me, for the last time. It breaks my heart that we might already be past that point.
Fingers crossed for next time, and the time after, and the time after that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: Monday, May 24th, 2004 02:18 pm (UTC)It takes a lot of strength to get through those visits, and you always manage it. I admire that very much, but I also know it's so difficult for you. I wish there was something I could do to help, but there isn't. I'm always here for you though, if you do think of anything.
no subject
Date: Monday, May 24th, 2004 02:59 pm (UTC)Words are so inadequate sometimes, but... I'm sorry you have to go through times like this--you're being so wonderful, and so strong. You're a beautiful person, and I admire you so much.
Thinking of you. I'm here if you want to talk, okay? Any time. *sends good thoughts and more, many more hugs*
no subject
Date: Monday, May 24th, 2004 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, May 25th, 2004 02:40 am (UTC)2) Wrt your father, I'm glad that your memories of how he was haven't been erased by how he is. A friend went to see her father just before he died of a brain tumour. It was so horrendous that every time she thinks of him now she sees the husk, not the man. But honestly, I reckon that his presence was so strong in your life, that this won't happen to you. Although it's beyond horrible to see him now, if it reminds you of who he used to be, that's sort of a consolation.
Go to the places that you've both loved, do the things that you used to do together, and in a small (but comforting) way he's still there. Eventually the horrid memories will fade, and all you'll be left with is fond ones (OK, which will make you somewhat meepish, but that's not always a bad thing).
*Squeeze*
no subject
Date: Tuesday, May 25th, 2004 01:58 pm (UTC)[Hug and sympathy]
MC
no subject
Date: Tuesday, May 25th, 2004 03:20 pm (UTC)