JUST A HIPPIE GYPSY

IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND

I don't understand how much of myself I really want to publish in Alphawoman. By understand, I mean the motivation. My handwritten, old fashion diary is lying on the floor of my vehicle. I enjoy this medium a lot. The only problem is, how much. In MLIAOB (which no one but me reads) it is simple. No one has any idea who I am. In ALphawoman, there is the possibility that people so know. Zorro may have told people about it when I was the top dog for a week and I now have peepers. My hit counter way out shines my comments....oh well.

The point being is that Dad is very ill and I don't like how I feel about it. I help out, I am there, but it is so painful to see your Dad become a stranger to you. The last really good concersations I had with Pop would have been 10 years ago. He has been fading for a long time. Every birthday, every Christmas I think will be my last with him.

We brought him home from the hospital today. Mom, Pat and myself. He was over medicated from a sleeping pill and as always (anymore) very uncommunicative. Two priests came and prayed for him, gave him a blessing, and laid hands on him.

I do not want my Dad to suffer anymore. I do not think he is in much pain. But he is reduced to wearing diapers, not being able to wash himself, can not talk, we will have to begin to puree his food because chewing is difficult, his medication must now be crushed and given to him in applesause. I do not want this for my dad. My Pop. The first man I ever loved! I do not want him to be reduced to this lump who watches tv and has only rare moments of lucidity.

I want my Dad back and it is not ever again going to happen until I meet him in heaven. I do not want to see my Mother reduced to role of caregiver/keeper/nurse. I do not want to see every dime they have saved go to a 24 hour a day nurse. Just to give him the care to have an existence of a shell of flesh.

I know that these thoughts are going to haunt me when he does go. I love my Dad.