Happy Birthday to You

Wednesday, just about a week after "The Close Call," we celebrated my husband's 72nd birthday. I brought special "soft" treats for him to enjoy (puddings and Jell-o), and I called the kids and his siblings so each could sing "Happy Birthday" to him on speaker phone. He opened his eyes and looked surprised for the singing, but I'm not sure if that was because he recognized voices or if it was because the volume was up all the way when I put the phone next to his ear. I'd like to think he recognized voices, so I'll go with that.

Because of COVID-19, we weren't able to gather the family together for a party as we did last year. That would have been too many people at once, and social distancing protocols would have been impossible. Our son who lives closest to the facility was able to stop by for a visit with his beautiful bride and their two little boys to sing to Papa in person. Our kids are and have been wonderful. As my friend Howard would say, they are all above average! I felt blessed, and it was a good day with happy memories.

Yesterday (Thursday), my husband ate 10% of his breakfast, none of his lunch, and had very little by way of liquid before I got there. When I arrived after lunch, the Comeback Kid surprised me by being awake and seeming relatively alert, comparatively speaking, for hours. He even smiled at me and spoke, very softly, on two occasions ("yes" and "pretty good," the most he's said to me in I don't know how long). He had some Jell-o, and I was able to "push" liquids (about four small glasses) during my stay. I was thrilled that he also ate his whole dinner. Though the pureed food looks decidedly unappetizing, it doesn't taste too bad. It's the same meal that's served to everyone else. The color and consistency are definitely unappealing, however.

Today (Friday), he again didn't have breakfast or lunch or liquids. This time, even with my very best coaxing efforts, I wasn't able to get him to drink much or eat more than a fraction of his dinner, though he did have one small pudding. He just didn't want to wake up, even when the caregiver was washing his face and applying moisturizer. Even when I was patting his cheeks and showering him with kisses and asking him to wake up for me. My poor darling. One day you're up, and the next day you're down, it seems.

Who knows what tomorrow may bring? But if he doesn't eat, and if he doesn't drink, well, that won't be a good sign, eh?

Sleeping like a baby.
Happy Birthday, my darling.