Sleep escaped me last night - I literally tossed and turned, and every time, I had to flip the hose to my CPAP machine back and forth to avoid laying on it. The hose attaches to my nose and I breathe through that as I keep my mouth closed, clenching my teeth. I clench my teeth because I don't want to move them as I sleep, but inevitably when I awake in the morning, I have bitten my tongue and/or the inside of my mouth. It's very annoying and I don't know why I do this. I think I must be dreaming of pasta or something equally enjoyable that I miss, because my mouth does eventually pop open and drool settles on my pillow.
Now my pillow is another story. I'm way past the big "M," but I still have ridiculous hot flashes. I have to turn my pillow over during the night because it gets so hot I could fry an egg on it. I want to buy the "Chillow" advertised on TV. It's made of gel or something like that and keeps you cool all night, or so it claims. It's very weird, these hot flashes. My whole head heats up and I feel my face get flush, then sweat rolls down in flood force. It's so flattering, especially when I'm around other people. It probably looks like my head is about to explode - it feels like that anyway. I carry a handy handkerchief in my purse for moments like this. Thank God for cotton.
I went to see my dad yesterday. When I came into the room, he was sleeping with his mouth wide open. He looked dead, so I said, "Dad!" kind of loud and he woke up. He was glad to see me which was nice. In fact, he didn't want me to leave - he just wanted me to sit there with him and watch TV towards the end of my visit. I brought him a big bag of M&M's, which my mother, of course, scorned. She didn't say anything, but her looks say it all. Danny and I know that look. It's a look that says, "You really shouldn't eat that because it's fattening and you will just continue to gain weight, and you know, you should not be FAT." My mom has a real and long-standing problem with fat people. Or even people who are slightly overweight. She will describe a person's size before anything else. "You remember Rose who is my sister's friend, she's the heavy one in their family...." My dad will describe a person as to if he or she is Jewish or not. "He's a hard worker, but is he Jewish??" You can be a wonderful person, but if you're overweight or not a Jew, well then, for some reason, you are substandard.
Anyway, he loved the M&M's. My mom told me to only bring him half the bag, and I scoffed at the idea. Why? So he doesn't get fat? Good grief, I brought him the whole bag and enjoyed watching him eat something he missed. They don't give you M&M's in hospitals and nursing homes. My dad and I had a thing about sweets when my mom was in the nursing home. My mom was away, so we could play!! I bought all kinds of goodies when I went shopping and my dad was like a kid in a candy store when I returned home. I can't eat like that now, of course, with this diabetes thing, but I can watch my dad gobble each piece down with delight.
He did a little more talking than in past visits. He tried to make conversation with me, which is something really hard for my dad to do. He's a loner at heart and would much rather just watch TV or diddle on his computer by himself. He has no friends. The one he did have passed away. In fact, all of my parents' friends, except for two of my mom's, are gone. I guess that's what happens when you're 85 going on 86 - friends drop off like flies, and you wonder how you got to be so old. It seems like it was just yesterday.....
He asked the nursing aide to pull his bed up so he "could see his daughter." That made me feel special. You would just have to know him. If he is sentimental or emotional, he hides it deep inside. But he didn't want me to leave yesterday. I felt bad that I had to go, but good that he didn't want me to. I thought about it, and it is amazing to me that just over a month ago we were preparing for his death, and now he is rehabilitating in a nursing home. Prayers work. No doubt about it, and my dad is living proof of that.
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