I am still a bit shocked at how rapidly Anthony seems to have deteriorated in such a short space of time – in just a week and half. Of course, his inability to eat food that isn’t vitamised, the fading of his whispered voice, and the cognitive decline, were all things I anticipated in a ‘one day ….’ way. I didn’t realise, until now, that it could all happen so suddenly.
Less than two weeks ago, I was helping Anthony with his lunch in the dining room of the nursing home and one of the carers, who was helping another resident with her food, remarked about how good Anthony’s appetite still was. I remember telling her how wonderful it was that he could still eat normally. Then, just 15 minutes later, Anthony began to spit out his chewed food over and over again. Ironic!
So, from someone who was gobbling up everything from boiled eggs, to oysters, to fruit cake, to cherries, to chocolate, as well as the wonderful meals provided at the nursing home (often a roast dinner at noon), Anthony is struggling to swallow even custard. Not only that: he has lost his appetite in general, eats very slowly, has become extremely thirsty, and he seems to have gone quite blank. Once again, I was expecting all of this but I thought it would be more gradual, not so sudden.
I am seeing our doctor tomorrow in the hope that he will give me a prognosis estimate if that’s possible. After all, as I’ve often said, jokingly, Anthony has outlived his ‘use by’ status by years; his accepting resiliance is amazing!
Our fantastic conversations, his one-liners, the joking and quipping and teasing … all impossible now. How did this happen so suddenly? There is no longer any point in me recording these with my always-handy pen and paper. I am so glad I have scribbled and blogged and noted so many of these conversations because, if Anthony becomes totally silent, I know what to talk about – the Aga, there is plenty of toothpaste, lots of money in the bank, and Ming is fine.
Since lunch is the main meal, I’ve decided to stick to a routine of being at the nursing home between 11am – 2pmish daily so that I can feed Anthony his lunch, talk with him, embrace him, and just be with him.
As I was leaving him this afternoon, he was, as usual these days, in slumber mode but all of a sudden he opened his eyes wide.
“Give me a smile, Ants!” I said, laughing at his wide eyes.
He took one hand from underneath his knee blanket and pointed through the window. Then he whispered, “Out there .”
PS. To blog and facebook friends: I apologise for not reading your posts lately – will catch up soon!
jmgoyder 
So glad you’ll see the doctor soon. You and Anthony both face reality head-on. It’s nice to know and be prepared for each step of your journey.
No need to say sorry you have other things to deal with now, it is sad when our love ones goes downhill take each day as you find it and love each day you have him with you
Wonder which “out there” he meant.