David

I didn't know quite what title to use for this blog so I settled on "David" because he's the man whom this is all about.

Each day I travel over to my daughter's house, about 10 minutes drive away, and carry in my necessities for the day...tote bag with Swedish weaving, purse, Tim Hortons coffee for me and my 2 daughters. The yappy Jack Russell terriers meet me at the door...yapping, of course. I shed my shoes and carry the rest of the stuff into the livingroom, pausing only to check on David who lies inert in his hospital bed in the diningroom. Nothing too much changes from day to day except he falls a little further away from us.

Yesterday was terrible because David was in constant pain and/or discomfort but today his medications have been refined enough to keep him deeply sedated and relatively comfortable. I'm so grateful for his comfort. His labored breathing is all that signals he is still with us but no-one gives up hope that he might wake up any moment and give us a hint of the old David...I miss his ready laugh and even his dirty jokes.

Family and friends arrive and leave all day long. Tears flow but, for the most part, hearts have hardened to the inevitable and now want only to show respect for someone they care about. My daughters doggedly tend to his present needs as best they can.

When the home care nurse arrives, she has suggestions and solutions for David's care. The voices are hushed in deference to the sleeping figure in front of them. I just want to mention that the home care nurses must be angels in disguise because they show more compassion than seems possible. You would almost think that David is the prime concern in their lives...there is no hurried visit because they won't leave until they're positive they've done all they can. And when they do leave, it's to dispense their kindness and expertise on some other ailing individual who is dependent on them.

I go home around dinnertime and think long and hard on my way. I see the streets as I pass and think how David will never pass that way again. I come into the house and think how David will never enter there again. As I water my flowers on the back deck I remember the great times we've had sitting outside and enjoying warm summer evenings. David can't be there ever again. "Never again"...those words are just too painful.