Grandpa's cookies

Here is some embroidery I did on an apron for my dad. He used to make wonderful cookies that were favorites with his grandkids. During most of his marriage to my mom (who was a great cook), he didn't cook at all. But when she became ill and he was caring for her at home, he ventured into the kitchen and decided he might give it a try. She called out instructions from her chair in the living room and he began to learn his way around the kitchen.

After my mom passed away, dad continued to cook and even took a few classes at the local adult school. Then he started giving dinner parties. He prided himself on his popovers...one of his first successes.....and his cookies. One time when my family was in town, he told hubby and I to make reservations at a nice restaurant and he would cook dinner for BCG and TG. He borrowed a little child-sized table and chairs and served them a speghetti dinner complete with cloth napkins and a checkered table cloth. As I remember, he even sat in one of the chairs....or maybe he pulled up the foot stool.

The last couple of days have been difficult ones for me as I've tried to manage a "dad issue" at the nursing home. Seems dad is getting feisty with his caregivers and has been trying to fight them off. And he has refused to take the medicine that was prescribed to help alleviate these episodes. It was suggested that maybe he needed a short time-out in the psychiatric hospital. This unglued me just a bit. He's frail and unable to do anything for himself, and putting him in with psych patients (where the geriatric section is not separate) didn't seem like a good idea, although I know the nursing home staff had legitimate concerns about their safety.

This morning I had an appointment with a hospice nurse. Someone suggested it might be good to talk to her and see if dad was a candidate for their program. Silly me, I thought hospice was just for those last days of care that required ice chips and lots of morphine. I was wrong. After a lengthy discussion and her short examination of my dad, she said she was fairly certain she could help him. I've always thought that he was in some pain (he had prostate cancer many years ago and lots of treatment) and she agreed. Even though I've asked him repeatedly if he was in pain and he always says no, she advised that not everyone (men especially....it can be a macho thing) can tell you when they're in pain. Sometimes dementia can be the reason.

So the staff will now begin to administer some pain medication and see how he does. They will eliminate some of the other medications that he really doesn't need, and they will give him a nice new cushy pad for his wheelchair. And if he happens to sleep through one of his meals, it won't be any big deal. They will do everything they can to keep him comfortable.

I'm pretty sure we'll both sleep better tonight. He'll get a dose of his new med, and I'll read a few chapters of Morality for Beautiful Girls, my recent selection from the Alexander McCall Smith series. It's most charming.....