Death Watch

My sister calls and she's pretty calm. Dad's been moved into a hospital bed, full time oxygen, and free-choice morphine, and she tells me to come down now, while he's still lucid. They give him a couple of weeks, a failed artery and a faulty valve. 24 hour nursing because he blacks out walking to the toilet. I have a couple of things I need to do, get an oil change, touch base with B and TR, then I have to get down there, to relieve Brenda; but I'll be gone for a while. Sis is having a talk with the hospice nurse tomorrow, and I couldn't leave until the next day anyway. This promises to be dreadful. What you do is make a list; people that have to be notified, bills that have to be paid; you go to the library, to return books and get a book-on-tape, clean out the fridge, cancel all engagements. B will agree to collecting the mail, TR can inform local concerned people on my whereabouts. I'll have the drive down to compose my thoughts. A eulogy for Jack, BJ as he was usually called. I called him many things, but "Pop" was probably the most common. What do you call your father when he's gone most of the time? It's the mother, of course, who raises you. From whom all life-blood flows. He was only ever a mythic image. Might have been the father, the timing works; "Out Of Africa". Look at the evidence, we're cannibals.