Not So Good News

Dear friends and family,

This will be just a note about Poppy, with an apology for not writing in the past few months.  

Unfortunately (don’t you hate it when a sentence starts with that word?), our dear Poppy’s health has deteriorated significantly in the last week.  I don’t know how to say this, so, I’ll have to be somewhat blunt.

It seems as if he’s actively trying to pass away.  For the past four days, he has refused all medication, and most all of his food. He won’t eat but maybe a teaspoon of food at each meal.

Last evening, I visited with him for a while, and he uttered two words.  One was “beautiful.”  A few minutes later, he said, “chocolate.”  I couldn’t get it out of him whether he wanted a chocolate bar, some other kind of candy, a malt, or cake, or what. He has had a good-sized sweet tooth for many years, and knowing the “old” Dad, it might have been a Snickers bar.  Sadly, he can’t chew the peanuts in that candy.

So, I told him I’d be right back, and jetted over to the nearest grocery, where I found bags of “bite-sized” versions of his old favorites—3 Musketeers, Hershey’s kisses, Mounds, and a few others.  When I returned, I gave him a kiss, and then a chocolate Kiss.

He whispered the word, “beautiful” again. I sat with him, told him that Emily would have a graduation next week, when she finishes preschool.  The teachers plan to have them march to “Pomp & Circumstance” in white gowns and caps—it will be so very cute!  He smiled, kind of.  I made a few jokes, and he did actually give me a full smile.  I knew he was alert.  He seemed safe for that moment, and it had been 1-1/2 hours, so I thought I’d better get home, and planned to go back tomorrow (today.)

I visited him this evening, and he was so much worse.  I tried to get him to look at me, offered him some more candy, asked him if he could speak at all.  He would not even make eye contact with me.  Four days without food or his meds (for blood pressure, stroke prevention, heart aids, etc.) will have its effects, won’t it.

So, it will be day to day, or hour to hour for the duration.  I’ve loved the letters and cards, and I still read them to him.  I will read them to him until he can’t hear me anymore.

There are regrets, of course, that I couldn’t get him immediate care when he had this last stroke, that I couldn’t visit him at least every other day, that I couldn’t do things he wanted.  I just hope he forgives me.  

He has been such a good man; he’s kept his faith all the way, and has always been a loving, compassionate minister.  I just hope that when he goes, it will be peaceful and not painful.

Enough of the morose for now. Who knows; maybe he’ll meet a cute nurse tomorrow, perk right up and surprise us all!  He’s been known to do that before, after all!

Please keep your good wishes and prayers going his way.  I thank you so much for the comfort and support you’ve given us.