Doctor, Doctor and Papa-Palapa...

 I walked into the dining room and found Dad sitting at a table with a spaghetti ring around his mouth and cookie crumbs in his lap.  He had his eyes closed, a big smile on his face and was talking reverently, as if saying a prayer.  I stood and listened to him for a little while.  Impressively, he is good at rhyming words.

I gently touched his shoulder and then his face.  He opened his eyes with delighted surprise, calling my name. I cleaned him up and wheeled him back into his room to put on his shoes, a sweater and the afghan Mom knitted for him in his lap.  I wheeled him outside on the patio...

Dad has had sex on his mind a lot lately, and today was no different.  He went on and on about his favorite Aide and how he would take her with him when he leaves for outer space.  He told me how much he loved her and how good she was to him.  How she really showed her love to him by caring for him so well.  I agreed with him, and told Dad we all loved her too.

His voice was kind of raspy and hoarse, like Clint Eastwood.  I kept getting him glasses of water and he would completely suck down the water through the straw and barely lose a beat in his one way conversation to me.  I just kept refilling the glass, smiling and nodding in agreement.

Dad told me he was cold and wanted to go back to his room.  As I was wheeling him into his room, the nurse called to me and told me Dad had a blister on his left foot.  She was there to check it and treat it.  Another male nurse came in and told me he was just going to call me about Dad's blister.  The nurse pulled off his shoes and socks and I was shocked to see his dark purple foot.  Dad has very poor circulation in his legs, and refuses to wear his compression stockings.  Siting long periods in his wheel chair with his legs hanging down, will not help his circulation!

We agreed he should get in bed and elevate his feet.  I could start to see a more normal color returning to his feet...  His favorite Aide came in to check on Dad.  She spends a lot of time in his room.  I noted her sweater and bag were on Dad's bedside table.  I told her how much we appreciate her and how much Dad responds to her.  Dad turned to her and said, Doctor, Doctor.  Apparently, that is what Dad calls her.  She playfully rubbed his head and asked how her Papa-Palapa was, and he beamed with happiness and told her he was just fine now that she was here!  We all laughed...

We chatted as we were trying to find something Dad liked on the television.  He did not anything, except talking with her.  I stroked Dad's hair and he told me how good it felt and shut his eyes.  Before we knew it, he was asleep.  I kissed him, telling him how much I loved him and let myself out...

Until next time Papa-Palapa...