Good show!
Eric has been meeting the family all over town this weekend after returning from the Toronto area where the rest of our extended family lives. Today, in addition to meeting relatives, we had the opportunity to visit Colasanti's Gardens. As usual, the visit was very enjoyable.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
I now pronouce you...
What a hoot! The same-sex-marriage rush in Canada has had it's first casualty. One of the first lesbian couples married in Canada now wants a divorce. One small problem... same sex DIVORCE is not yet legal in Canada.
Maybe the government thought that people who had waited so long, and tried so hard, to tie the knot would actually want to stay married for more than a few days! These goofs went their separate ways after only five days of marriage!
It's clear to me they just wanted to be in the record books. One of the first to marry, and THE first to divorce. They should have done the civilized thing and had their marriage annulled during the 7-day warranty period. Instead, they cause eachother all this grief.
What a hoot! The same-sex-marriage rush in Canada has had it's first casualty. One of the first lesbian couples married in Canada now wants a divorce. One small problem... same sex DIVORCE is not yet legal in Canada.
Maybe the government thought that people who had waited so long, and tried so hard, to tie the knot would actually want to stay married for more than a few days! These goofs went their separate ways after only five days of marriage!
It's clear to me they just wanted to be in the record books. One of the first to marry, and THE first to divorce. They should have done the civilized thing and had their marriage annulled during the 7-day warranty period. Instead, they cause eachother all this grief.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
Friday, July 16, 2004
In other news...
Anne wrote yesterday about seeing a story about a bizarre event on a recent flight from Detroit to Los Angeles. I hadn't paid much attention to the heightened state of alert at Detroit Metropolitan Airport issued by the media a couple of weeks ago. But, with Eric (my future son-in-law) scheduled to arrive at Detroit airport next week, and having read the linked story, I am starting to feel uneasy about my daughter's flight from Detroit to Denver at the end of next week to meet Eric's parents.
Anne wrote yesterday about seeing a story about a bizarre event on a recent flight from Detroit to Los Angeles. I hadn't paid much attention to the heightened state of alert at Detroit Metropolitan Airport issued by the media a couple of weeks ago. But, with Eric (my future son-in-law) scheduled to arrive at Detroit airport next week, and having read the linked story, I am starting to feel uneasy about my daughter's flight from Detroit to Denver at the end of next week to meet Eric's parents.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
The Funeral, Kaddish and Kiddish
Part I: The Funeral
As is the Jewish tradition, funerals are held as soon as possible after death. With my father passing just minutes before midnight on Tuesday, there wasn't time to arrange for a Wednesday funeral. So, we had it today instead. With dad being the last of his siblings to pass away, the only surviving relatives were of a younger generation. I've never been overly social, so I wasn't sure how many people would come to pay their respects. To say I was overwhelmed by the response would be an understatement. Several of my relatives made last minute changes to their plans to be here. In one case, second-cousins vacationing on the east coast drove 10 hours by car to get to the funeral on time. In another case, a cousin who had started reading my blog shortly after his last trip to Windsor made arrangements to come to the funeral even before I had formally told him of my father's death - he had read about it on the blog!
It seemed that each person who came had something wonderful and touching to say about my dad. Though I had known how this man had touched the lives of so many, still it was a real tribute to show up at the funeral, where no-one but the survivors would ever know they had come. Words cannot express the joy they brought to me, my sisters, and my mom.
Part II: The Kaddish
I remember going to a funeral a long time ago where the son of the deceased was unable to recite the Kaddish (the traditional prayer for the dead). It scared me, because for the past few years, I've had this morbid fear of screwing up this prayer at the gravesite, thereby somehow dishonouring the memory of my father. There are several variations of the Kaddish, with the "Reader's Kaddish" and "Mourner's Kaddish" being the most familiar. These prayers are recited several times during the course of a daily religious service; so despite the fact I don't attend services as regularly as I should, I have still learned these prayers over a span of over 40 years. There is another version of the Kaddish known as the "Grand Kaddish". As its name implies, it is longer than the other versions (about double in length), and happens to be unfamiliar to me. It is the "Grand Kaddish" that is recited during burial ceremonies. Yesterday, while visiting my sister's home, I asked her whether I could look at a prayer book, so I could get an advanced look at that prayer.
It was a monster. I recognized the words that began the prayer. But, beyond the first four words, it was Greek to me. I don't speak Hebrew. I don't understand the language at all (OK, maybe I know the word for "father", "mother", "dog", "water" - but that's not "speaking" the language). Hebrew, however, is phonetic. That is, each letter of the Hebrew alphabet has a distinctive sound. That means that I can "speak" the language without knowing what I'm saying. Unfortunately, being able to parrot the sounds is difficult, because, without knowing what you're saying, there is no ability to "anticipate" what comes next. It makes reading very difficult. The first time I tried reading the seven-line first paragraph, it took me nearly ten minutes. Not only would this not be acceptable, it would be downright embarassing.
I decided to create a transliteration of that first paragraph (the remaining paragraphs were the same as the other kaddish versions, so I already knew them). A transliteration is created by assigning English letters to substitute for the sound made by the Hebrew letters (consonants) and punctuation marks (vowels).
Hebrew letters are read/pronounced from right-to-left as you read the page. Using the alphabet and sound guide from the link above, imagine how long it would take you to create this example of transliteration. It shows the "usual" version of the Kaddish (the one I know by heart). Since I was having trouble reading the passage, it took quite a while (nearly an hour) to get a transliteration that was both accurate, and easy to read. If you don't know what I mean by "easy to read", try reading this: ify oud on'tk now wha time ant ryre adin gth is.
So, an hour later, I have finished the work, and begin to practice reading the transliteration. There's no way I'm going to memorize this passage overnight, but if I can at least make it sound "familiar" to me, I should be able to get the reading rate up. I had been practicing for a good half hour, and had the reading time down to about 1-1/2 minutes for the paragraph. That's still slower than it should be read, but tolerable. The only thing I needed now was a copy of the prayer book to take to the gravesite with me, so I could "hide" my cheat sheet.
My brother-in-law was quite accommodating, managing to locate a more compact (portable) version of the prayer book. I was about to leave the house with the book when (for some unknown reason), I decided to look inside and read the prayer again. To my absolute shock, I discovered that the two prayer books did not agree on the wording of the prayer! In this seven-line paragraph, I found about a half-dozen words that were different between the versions! Remember, I don't know Hebrew, so I had no way to tell whether the discrepancies were due to typographical errors, writing style, or who knows what else!
I was going to be meeting the Rabbi later that evening to make arrangements about the service, so I thought I'd transliterate the different passages and ask the Rabbi which version of the prayer was correct. I'm glad I did... because it turns out the SECOND version of the prayer was the correct version.
So, here I am, standing at the gravesite, but I had forgotten to bring the prayer book with me. No problem... I'd just borrow the Rabbi's copy. When it came time for the prayer, I held his prayer book, pulled out my trusty (revised) transliteration, and proceeded to stumble through the first paragraph in what seemed like a long time to me, but probably because I was so nervous. Once I finished the first paragraph, I put away my cheat sheet and began to recite the familiar part of the Kaddish from the book. Then, believe it or not, I ran into one stanza in the "familiar" portion of the prayer that didn't seem so familiar. Luckily, the difference between what I was reading, and what I remembered, was only one word - and an easy one to pronounce at that.
I've worried about this prayer for twenty years. Now, I can finally exhale.
Part III: The Kiddish
I didn't eat breakfast this morning. I'm not sure why, perhaps just nervous. But the funeral service was scheduled to start at 1:00PM, with the burial scheduled to follow after a lengthy funeral procession. By the time we got the "business" out of the way and proceeded to the catered buffet meal, it would be past 3:30PM. I've been to lots of catered meals put on by the synagogue. In every case, the meal doesn't start until grace is recited. Everyone (myself included) was milling around impatiently waiting for the Rabbi to arrive so he could recite the grace. He finally did arrive, only to approach me and ask why no-one was eating. When I told him, he looked at me with that "what, haven't you ever been to one of these gigs before?" looks. Turns out the grace is said by the same person who recited the graveside prayer. Translation: EVERYONE WAS WAITING FOR ME, and I didn't even know it.
I have to say, the Kiddish was a big hit. I had no idea how many people to expect for the funeral service, and didn't have a clue how many would actually travel out to the gravesite for the interment. And from there, I had no idea how many would actually proceed to the buffet. My sister had ordered enough food for sixty people. Somewhat fewer actually came, but when you consider that only about 1/4 of the attendees were local, that's a good turnout. This kind of spread is one of the things I usually enjoy photographing, but needless to say, it would have been VERY inappropriate of me to whip out the camera (I had actually brought the camera with me, but wisely left it in the car). I can't begin to tell you the variety and quality of food offered to the guests... although I can say from experience that the smoked salmon, bagels, grapes, egg salad, tuna salad, pickles, and brownies were delicious. I can also say there were at least five tempting dishes I passed up because my plate had been filled with the aforementioned items.
Anyway, I do believe the food was well received. And from the limited amount of doggie bag food available afterward, I think I can safely say that the buffet was a hit. Kudo's to my sister for ordering the right amount of food, without any idea how many people would actually show up.
In addition to food, the Kiddish gave me the opportunity to visit with each table (a table roughly corresponding to one or two family units). There was one exception. By sheer coincidence, one of my cousins was celebrating a "reunion" on the occasion of their twin-daughters' 40th birthday celebrations. They took time to gather the entire clan - three generations worth - to come to the funeral. They used at least two tables on their own.
Every time our extended family gathers for a wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah... we always say we'll get together. And of course, with everyone having busy lives and living in different cities, we never do. Here's hoping that this time, we WILL get together and not wait until the next sad occasion.
Part I: The Funeral
As is the Jewish tradition, funerals are held as soon as possible after death. With my father passing just minutes before midnight on Tuesday, there wasn't time to arrange for a Wednesday funeral. So, we had it today instead. With dad being the last of his siblings to pass away, the only surviving relatives were of a younger generation. I've never been overly social, so I wasn't sure how many people would come to pay their respects. To say I was overwhelmed by the response would be an understatement. Several of my relatives made last minute changes to their plans to be here. In one case, second-cousins vacationing on the east coast drove 10 hours by car to get to the funeral on time. In another case, a cousin who had started reading my blog shortly after his last trip to Windsor made arrangements to come to the funeral even before I had formally told him of my father's death - he had read about it on the blog!
It seemed that each person who came had something wonderful and touching to say about my dad. Though I had known how this man had touched the lives of so many, still it was a real tribute to show up at the funeral, where no-one but the survivors would ever know they had come. Words cannot express the joy they brought to me, my sisters, and my mom.
Part II: The Kaddish
I remember going to a funeral a long time ago where the son of the deceased was unable to recite the Kaddish (the traditional prayer for the dead). It scared me, because for the past few years, I've had this morbid fear of screwing up this prayer at the gravesite, thereby somehow dishonouring the memory of my father. There are several variations of the Kaddish, with the "Reader's Kaddish" and "Mourner's Kaddish" being the most familiar. These prayers are recited several times during the course of a daily religious service; so despite the fact I don't attend services as regularly as I should, I have still learned these prayers over a span of over 40 years. There is another version of the Kaddish known as the "Grand Kaddish". As its name implies, it is longer than the other versions (about double in length), and happens to be unfamiliar to me. It is the "Grand Kaddish" that is recited during burial ceremonies. Yesterday, while visiting my sister's home, I asked her whether I could look at a prayer book, so I could get an advanced look at that prayer.
It was a monster. I recognized the words that began the prayer. But, beyond the first four words, it was Greek to me. I don't speak Hebrew. I don't understand the language at all (OK, maybe I know the word for "father", "mother", "dog", "water" - but that's not "speaking" the language). Hebrew, however, is phonetic. That is, each letter of the Hebrew alphabet has a distinctive sound. That means that I can "speak" the language without knowing what I'm saying. Unfortunately, being able to parrot the sounds is difficult, because, without knowing what you're saying, there is no ability to "anticipate" what comes next. It makes reading very difficult. The first time I tried reading the seven-line first paragraph, it took me nearly ten minutes. Not only would this not be acceptable, it would be downright embarassing.
I decided to create a transliteration of that first paragraph (the remaining paragraphs were the same as the other kaddish versions, so I already knew them). A transliteration is created by assigning English letters to substitute for the sound made by the Hebrew letters (consonants) and punctuation marks (vowels).
Hebrew letters are read/pronounced from right-to-left as you read the page. Using the alphabet and sound guide from the link above, imagine how long it would take you to create this example of transliteration. It shows the "usual" version of the Kaddish (the one I know by heart). Since I was having trouble reading the passage, it took quite a while (nearly an hour) to get a transliteration that was both accurate, and easy to read. If you don't know what I mean by "easy to read", try reading this: ify oud on'tk now wha time ant ryre adin gth is.
So, an hour later, I have finished the work, and begin to practice reading the transliteration. There's no way I'm going to memorize this passage overnight, but if I can at least make it sound "familiar" to me, I should be able to get the reading rate up. I had been practicing for a good half hour, and had the reading time down to about 1-1/2 minutes for the paragraph. That's still slower than it should be read, but tolerable. The only thing I needed now was a copy of the prayer book to take to the gravesite with me, so I could "hide" my cheat sheet.
My brother-in-law was quite accommodating, managing to locate a more compact (portable) version of the prayer book. I was about to leave the house with the book when (for some unknown reason), I decided to look inside and read the prayer again. To my absolute shock, I discovered that the two prayer books did not agree on the wording of the prayer! In this seven-line paragraph, I found about a half-dozen words that were different between the versions! Remember, I don't know Hebrew, so I had no way to tell whether the discrepancies were due to typographical errors, writing style, or who knows what else!
I was going to be meeting the Rabbi later that evening to make arrangements about the service, so I thought I'd transliterate the different passages and ask the Rabbi which version of the prayer was correct. I'm glad I did... because it turns out the SECOND version of the prayer was the correct version.
So, here I am, standing at the gravesite, but I had forgotten to bring the prayer book with me. No problem... I'd just borrow the Rabbi's copy. When it came time for the prayer, I held his prayer book, pulled out my trusty (revised) transliteration, and proceeded to stumble through the first paragraph in what seemed like a long time to me, but probably because I was so nervous. Once I finished the first paragraph, I put away my cheat sheet and began to recite the familiar part of the Kaddish from the book. Then, believe it or not, I ran into one stanza in the "familiar" portion of the prayer that didn't seem so familiar. Luckily, the difference between what I was reading, and what I remembered, was only one word - and an easy one to pronounce at that.
I've worried about this prayer for twenty years. Now, I can finally exhale.
Part III: The Kiddish
I didn't eat breakfast this morning. I'm not sure why, perhaps just nervous. But the funeral service was scheduled to start at 1:00PM, with the burial scheduled to follow after a lengthy funeral procession. By the time we got the "business" out of the way and proceeded to the catered buffet meal, it would be past 3:30PM. I've been to lots of catered meals put on by the synagogue. In every case, the meal doesn't start until grace is recited. Everyone (myself included) was milling around impatiently waiting for the Rabbi to arrive so he could recite the grace. He finally did arrive, only to approach me and ask why no-one was eating. When I told him, he looked at me with that "what, haven't you ever been to one of these gigs before?" looks. Turns out the grace is said by the same person who recited the graveside prayer. Translation: EVERYONE WAS WAITING FOR ME, and I didn't even know it.
I have to say, the Kiddish was a big hit. I had no idea how many people to expect for the funeral service, and didn't have a clue how many would actually travel out to the gravesite for the interment. And from there, I had no idea how many would actually proceed to the buffet. My sister had ordered enough food for sixty people. Somewhat fewer actually came, but when you consider that only about 1/4 of the attendees were local, that's a good turnout. This kind of spread is one of the things I usually enjoy photographing, but needless to say, it would have been VERY inappropriate of me to whip out the camera (I had actually brought the camera with me, but wisely left it in the car). I can't begin to tell you the variety and quality of food offered to the guests... although I can say from experience that the smoked salmon, bagels, grapes, egg salad, tuna salad, pickles, and brownies were delicious. I can also say there were at least five tempting dishes I passed up because my plate had been filled with the aforementioned items.
Anyway, I do believe the food was well received. And from the limited amount of doggie bag food available afterward, I think I can safely say that the buffet was a hit. Kudo's to my sister for ordering the right amount of food, without any idea how many people would actually show up.
In addition to food, the Kiddish gave me the opportunity to visit with each table (a table roughly corresponding to one or two family units). There was one exception. By sheer coincidence, one of my cousins was celebrating a "reunion" on the occasion of their twin-daughters' 40th birthday celebrations. They took time to gather the entire clan - three generations worth - to come to the funeral. They used at least two tables on their own.
Every time our extended family gathers for a wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah... we always say we'll get together. And of course, with everyone having busy lives and living in different cities, we never do. Here's hoping that this time, we WILL get together and not wait until the next sad occasion.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
The Journey Ends
May 3, 1920 - July 13, 2004
Rest in Peace
The end came swiftly and peacefully, with my sister and me at his side. He spent the final two days of his life listening to joyous music eminating from the hearts and lips of his loving children and their spouses. Nurses at the ICU commented that never before had anyone been serenaded by continuous show-tunes, hymns, pop music, lullabies, nursery rhymes ... sung at the top of our voices.
We could tell he was listening. While still hooked up to monitors, there were distinct patterns of blood pressure that could be directly attributed to who was singing. When my sister or my wife sang, blood pressure was low and steady. When I sang, blood pressure immediately soared and became erratic. Even in a near-comatose state, my dad had strong opinions about my (lack of a) singing voice.
Tonight, I had arrived at the hospital, ready to begin the night-time shift. My sister was describing how the day had gone, and what to watch for, now that my dad had been removed from the monitor. My dad must have been listening for my arrival. He chose that 20-minute window of shift change-over to alter his breathing pattern, open his eyes wide, and make noises (which we thought were moans of pain - but now believe to be an attempt at a final goodbye). We both spoke to him at that point, told him we loved him, and gave him permission to sleep. Less than a minute later, he was gone.
There were no tears. My dad had left us the greatest gift of joy imaginable. A final expression of love.
May 3, 1920 - July 13, 2004
The end came swiftly and peacefully, with my sister and me at his side. He spent the final two days of his life listening to joyous music eminating from the hearts and lips of his loving children and their spouses. Nurses at the ICU commented that never before had anyone been serenaded by continuous show-tunes, hymns, pop music, lullabies, nursery rhymes ... sung at the top of our voices.
We could tell he was listening. While still hooked up to monitors, there were distinct patterns of blood pressure that could be directly attributed to who was singing. When my sister or my wife sang, blood pressure was low and steady. When I sang, blood pressure immediately soared and became erratic. Even in a near-comatose state, my dad had strong opinions about my (lack of a) singing voice.
Tonight, I had arrived at the hospital, ready to begin the night-time shift. My sister was describing how the day had gone, and what to watch for, now that my dad had been removed from the monitor. My dad must have been listening for my arrival. He chose that 20-minute window of shift change-over to alter his breathing pattern, open his eyes wide, and make noises (which we thought were moans of pain - but now believe to be an attempt at a final goodbye). We both spoke to him at that point, told him we loved him, and gave him permission to sleep. Less than a minute later, he was gone.
There were no tears. My dad had left us the greatest gift of joy imaginable. A final expression of love.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Thanks to all
Even though we are following my dad's last wishes, it is certainly easier when aided by a helpful and knowledgeable staff. I'd like to thank the following Hotel Dieu ICU staff for their assistance and sympathetic understanding...
Dr. Datta
Dr. Muscedere
Mary C - Acute Care Nurse Practitioner
Karen S - Respiratory Therapist
Donna N - Registered Nurse
Denise D - Registered Nurse
Natalie P - Registered Nurse
Sarah F - Registered Nurse
Joyce J - Chaplain
... and the entire ICU support staff and team
Even though we are following my dad's last wishes, it is certainly easier when aided by a helpful and knowledgeable staff. I'd like to thank the following Hotel Dieu ICU staff for their assistance and sympathetic understanding...
Dr. Datta
Dr. Muscedere
Mary C - Acute Care Nurse Practitioner
Karen S - Respiratory Therapist
Donna N - Registered Nurse
Denise D - Registered Nurse
Natalie P - Registered Nurse
Sarah F - Registered Nurse
Joyce J - Chaplain
... and the entire ICU support staff and team
Dawn of a new day
I stayed with him through the night. I slept mostly, having been awake for the better part of the previous 24 hours, knowing that the monitors would alert me to the moment of truth.
The monitors never sounded. I awoke at 6:25AM and he's still with us. His kidney function is gone, having produced almost no output throughout the night. The doctor had told us beforehand that this would happen. Although his body is strong, it is shutting down, slowly but surely. He is peaceful, showing no distress at all except for the moments when nurses must turn his body to keep him comfortable. To me, it seems like he get annoyed when his rest is disturbed... perhaps believing that those poking and prodding are trying to interfere with nature's course.
Even in his march towards death, he holds his head high.
I stayed with him through the night. I slept mostly, having been awake for the better part of the previous 24 hours, knowing that the monitors would alert me to the moment of truth.
The monitors never sounded. I awoke at 6:25AM and he's still with us. His kidney function is gone, having produced almost no output throughout the night. The doctor had told us beforehand that this would happen. Although his body is strong, it is shutting down, slowly but surely. He is peaceful, showing no distress at all except for the moments when nurses must turn his body to keep him comfortable. To me, it seems like he get annoyed when his rest is disturbed... perhaps believing that those poking and prodding are trying to interfere with nature's course.
Even in his march towards death, he holds his head high.
Monday, July 12, 2004
Almost over
It's 8:55PM, July 12. We have removed the ventilating tubes. All medications have been suspended, except for the morphine drip. It's only a matter of time until my father slips away to join his many brothers, sisters, and parents.
It's been a long, difficult road, but the journey is almost over.
It's 8:55PM, July 12. We have removed the ventilating tubes. All medications have been suspended, except for the morphine drip. It's only a matter of time until my father slips away to join his many brothers, sisters, and parents.
It's been a long, difficult road, but the journey is almost over.
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Critical stage
My worst nightmare has come to pass. Dad, completely awake and able to hear/understand all around him, is able to respond to questions which can be answered using gestures, nods, blinks, etc. However, he is too weak to utter an intelligible sound or to hold a pencil, so he lays there with the most frustrated expression as he is completely unable to communicate his thoughts to those around him.
I need to devise a way to pry his thoughts from him using questions, but so far, am having no success.
My worst nightmare has come to pass. Dad, completely awake and able to hear/understand all around him, is able to respond to questions which can be answered using gestures, nods, blinks, etc. However, he is too weak to utter an intelligible sound or to hold a pencil, so he lays there with the most frustrated expression as he is completely unable to communicate his thoughts to those around him.
I need to devise a way to pry his thoughts from him using questions, but so far, am having no success.
Saturday, July 10, 2004
Quick catch-up
The lancing device I brought for my dad is gone. But because I put up a fuss, a new one appeared in it's place - the same model that I had originally brought.
But it doesn't really matter, because yesterday, my dad had to be readmitted to the hospital. Turns out he's been refusing food and water for days (apparently a voluntary decision), and it finally caused him to become too weak to remain healthy. He's now in the hospital, back on an intravenous, but otherwise in decent shape.
The lancing device I brought for my dad is gone. But because I put up a fuss, a new one appeared in it's place - the same model that I had originally brought.
But it doesn't really matter, because yesterday, my dad had to be readmitted to the hospital. Turns out he's been refusing food and water for days (apparently a voluntary decision), and it finally caused him to become too weak to remain healthy. He's now in the hospital, back on an intravenous, but otherwise in decent shape.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
What a bummer
I visited my dad on Tuesday evening, and remembered to bring the lancing device. The nurses have been manually using a lancette to pierce his finger to test for blood sugar. He's been wincing from the pain. So, I brought a spare lancing device from my old testing kit.
I got a call tonight from my mom, who reported that the device has gone missing. I don't know if it simply got tangled up in some clothing, or fell on the floor, or was taken by one of the staff (who don't have their own lancing devices).
I'm going to do a search, and I will be able to recognize it. I prominently marked the lancing device with my dad's name, and I'm sure whoever took it rubbed off the name to cover their tracks. But I'm just as sure they didn't know I also labeled the INSIDE of the device in such a way that the mark can only be viewed when you're specifically looking for it. Someone's gonna get caught with stolen goods!
I visited my dad on Tuesday evening, and remembered to bring the lancing device. The nurses have been manually using a lancette to pierce his finger to test for blood sugar. He's been wincing from the pain. So, I brought a spare lancing device from my old testing kit.
I got a call tonight from my mom, who reported that the device has gone missing. I don't know if it simply got tangled up in some clothing, or fell on the floor, or was taken by one of the staff (who don't have their own lancing devices).
I'm going to do a search, and I will be able to recognize it. I prominently marked the lancing device with my dad's name, and I'm sure whoever took it rubbed off the name to cover their tracks. But I'm just as sure they didn't know I also labeled the INSIDE of the device in such a way that the mark can only be viewed when you're specifically looking for it. Someone's gonna get caught with stolen goods!
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Much less sucky
On a brighter note, my sister informs me that yesterday, my dad took a short walk without the aid of a walker. He did require minimal assistance getting up from a seated position, but once on his feet, he was able to walk on his own. That's wonderful progress, since it's been only four days since he was released from the hospital. I'll have to get a picture of him walking during my next visit.
On a brighter note, my sister informs me that yesterday, my dad took a short walk without the aid of a walker. He did require minimal assistance getting up from a seated position, but once on his feet, he was able to walk on his own. That's wonderful progress, since it's been only four days since he was released from the hospital. I'll have to get a picture of him walking during my next visit.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Happy Canada Day!
This will be a short post. Happy Canada Day to all my friends celebrating the birth of our country - whether you're celebrating today or tomorrow. As for me, I have special cause to celebrate. My dad was released from the hospital today. He's now in a nursing home!
Un-fucking-believable!
Thank God (and everyone who prayed with me) for my dad's recovery
This will be a short post. Happy Canada Day to all my friends celebrating the birth of our country - whether you're celebrating today or tomorrow. As for me, I have special cause to celebrate. My dad was released from the hospital today. He's now in a nursing home!
Un-fucking-believable!
Thank God (and everyone who prayed with me) for my dad's recovery