One day at a time

Hi all, it's Diane. I got to the hospital just before 9:00 this morning. I got stuck behind a traffic accident AGAIN. I swear... Actually, I don't swear but the traffic is enough to make me start!

Anyway...

Dad was still snoozing when I got here. The nurses told me he had slept well overnight. His breakfast had just been delivered. I looked at his therapy schedule, and he didn't have anything scheduled until 10:30. I guess they decided to give him a break this morning after the early start yesterday. He started stirring shortly after I got here. Dad was not interested in his breakfast at all. Sausage and oatmeal did not excite him this morning. I coaxed him into eating a few bites, and he drank most of his milk and orange juice and ate his mandarin oranges, so that's something.

Occupational therapy this morning started with Dad brushing his teeth and combing his hair. Not too shabby. He got a new sling designed to support his weak arm and shoulder. Then we headed down to the gym for a few minutes, where they tried an electrical stimulator on his right arm to try to get the muscles working, especially the extensor muscles because his right fingers are getting too used to closing into a fist all the time. They said they will do more of that in his session this afternoon. Physical therapy was leg stretching and strengthening exercises, after which we headed back to his room for lunch.

He ate most of his lunch -- ground beef and gravy with mashed potatoes. I tasted it and I thought it was yummy! Especially with vanilla pudding for dessert. He dozed in his wheelchair for a few minutes before it was time for his busy afternoon of more therapy.

I wanted to share something I did with Dad in the hour between breakfast and occupational therapy this morning. I wanted something different for Dad to look at and think about. I decided to get out the iPad and let Dad look at his own blogs -- of his photographs, paintings, drawings, and poems. We started with the photos. I let him just look at each one, and sometimes I read what he had written about it. Then we did paintings, followed by drawings. He seemed very attentive and thoughtful. He was quiet this morning, but didn't seem really down. I asked him occasionally if he remembered the things we were looking at, and he always nodded. Finally, we went to his poetry blog. I read him two of his poems. Here is one of my favorites:

Me He Made a Dreamer

The day of life is brief and I do waste what time is mine
In sentimental musings with my thoughts in serpentine.
The worldly ways are naught to me and business seems a bore,
I seek to know what lilies think and what the stars are for.

When I walk the city streets where people sell and buy,
I contemplate the silly jest and seek the butterfly.
In money, news and politics, interest have I none.
My thoughts are rapt in poetry and lying in the sun.

I’ve never wanted land or gold, care not a whit for fame.
If I can sketch and write and think, I don’t even need a name.
As long as I have ought to eat and place to lay my head,
I’m happy leaving greater cares to other fools instead.

When God designed his creatures and placed us here below,
He made some feel responsible and made some just for show.
And me he made a dreamer, without a thought or care,
And when I’m gone no one will know that I was even there.