44

 

Sheri Stark, the fill-in for Jennie, is here today, but it’s a bad day for her to be introduced to Dad because he’s sluggish. After trying several times to roust him and get him to cooperate in his therapy, she says to me, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to help him today.” She looks distressed. That makes two of us.

I’m not blaming Sheri. I can tell she’s competent, but what do you do with a patient who won’t even open his eyes?

Nick gets up from his corner in the sunroom and walks over to nudge Dad’s hand. Nothing. He sighs, then goes back to his corner and lays his heads on his paws, watching us.

Sherry has watched him walk back to his spot. “Handsome dog. He has some hip problems, huh?”

“Yes, he does. He’s been getting treatment for about seven months now, but I’m not sure if there’s anything more we can do if the Adequan stops being effective.”

“That’s good stuff for hip dysplasia. Still, I can tell by the way he lies on his side and licks himself that he’s uncomfortable.”

I can’t get into Nick’s problems right now. “I know. I’m doing what I can for Nick. But back to Dad. I have to apologize. I should have called you and told you he’s been sluggish, but I was hoping he’d perk up by the time you got here.”

“He ain’t gonna perk up today.” It’s Marcy, speaking from the kitchen where she’s mopping. And eavesdropping.

I want to roll my eyes, but Marcy knows Dad too well for me to dismiss her remark. It’s just not what I want to hear at this moment.

“Can you come in here for a minute please, Marcy?”

She and Sheri have already introduced themselves, so I skip to the reason I asked her to come in. “Did you notice anything different about Dad this morning?”

“Just what I told you earlier. He didn’t want to wake up at all, but I got some coffee down him and he perked up long enough to take his Sinemet and eat a coupla’ bites of eggs. Then he went all Wynken, Blynken, and Nod on me again.”

Sheri laughs, then apologizes.

“No need to apologize,” Marcy tells her. “Things just pop outta me sometimes. I’m used to people gettin’ a kick out of me.”

“So what makes you think he won’t perk up again?” I ask her.

After thinking about this for a moment, she says, “He goes into a different kinda sleep than just usual sleep. It’s not just napping, when I can talk to him and get him to open his eyes. It’s more like he goes way down and don’t respond to nothing.”

A good description. I know just what she’s talking about.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help him today.” Sheri looks so disappointed.

“Can you do some isometric exercises?” I ask her.

“What’s that?” Marcy is always eager to learn.

Sheri tells her, “It’s strength training. Physical exercises that make your muscles stronger by pushing your arms or other parts of your body against each other or against something.” She puts her hands together, elbows out, and pushes one hand against the other to demonstrate. Muscles in her forearms and hands bulge. “Isometrics can help maintain muscle strength.”

Marcy imitates Sheri. “Oh, yeah, I get it. Well, that’s good then, right?”

Sheri looks at Dad. “Yes, under the circumstances, it’s good.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Marcy volunteers. “What can I do?” As usual, she’s enthusiastic about doing anything to help Dad.

“Let’s get him downstairs and onto his bed, where I can show you.”

I’m relieved Dad’s going to get something out of Sheri’s visit. “Anything will help, I’m sure,” I tell them.

“And if his muscles is stiff, can you do a little bit of massage?” Marcy asks Sheri.

I’d had that same thought but didn’t want to ask. I smile at Marcy to let her know I’m glad she did.

“Sure. But I’ll need you to help me move him around, okay?”

“Ain’t nothing I ain’t used to doing,” Marcy says, and I can tell she’s happy to be able to help.

Hell, I’m happy she’s the one who’s going to be doing the helping, too.

 

 

“You know, I watched Sheri real close, and I think I can help Joe with those isomecric exercises,” Marcy tells me.

I don’t bother to correct her pronunciation. She’s too dear to ever embarrass. She enjoyed helping Sheri today, and before she left, Sheri complimented Marcy on her “natural affinity for physical therapy.”

Marcy was so pleased with the compliment that she blushed—something I’d never seen her do.

“I think that would be wonderful, Marcy. I can’t think of anything better you could do for Dad, although you already do so much for him—and for me.”

“Just my job.” She blushes a second time.

“You know, Marcy, I think you deserve a raise. You’ve been working for ten dollars an hour, but I think fifteen dollars an hour would be more appropriate for all you do.”

Like anyone working hard and scraping by, she’s not about to turn down a raise. She gives me a hug as she thanks me. Marcy isn’t a hugger, and I’m taken aback. What has her so effusive these days?

Ah, ha! The New Year’s Eve date. Has he become her boyfriend?

“Hey, Marcy, let’s have a cup of coffee and talk about the new man in your life.”

She looks surprised, but then smiles and dips her head. “His name’s Joshua.”

 

 

Sheri comes for two more physical therapy sessions with Dad, and they go well. Dad’s confused about who she is, and even after explaining to him three times that she’s filling in for Adam and Jennie, he still doesn’t understand why she’s demanding things from him that, until now, only they have had the right to do. But to his credit, he leans into the therapy and smiles when Sheri praises him.

In between, Brittany and I have been working with Dad, and while I notice some small improvement in his speech, I can’t tell a difference in his ability to swallow. He takes his pills at will, with no more difficulty than always, but I no longer obsess about it. Marcy and I have been vigilant for quite some time about cutting his food into tiny pieces and giving him plenty of time to chew and swallow. She feeds him breakfast and lunch, and I spend at least an hour each evening with him at the dinner table.

David usually reheats Dad’s food in the microwave at least twice during that time. I love that he stays at the table with us, never minding the time it takes Dad to finish. Lately, he’s begun reading to us from a book of lovely short stories. Many are reminiscent of times past, the so-called simple life, with caring neighbors, one-room schoolhouses, and loyal dogs. More than a few of the stories have made me cry, which brings Nick into the fold when he comes out from under the table and puts his head in my lap.

This is our sweetest family time, and I grab onto every moment of it.