Getting pretty old to still be alive…

Dad can’t sit up by himself. Nor can he read or write any more. Often needs help eating, and most of his food needs to be within a very narrow consistency and range of ingredient. He spends 18 hours a day in bed and is at constant risk for bed sores.

He has requested to be resuscitate if his heart stops, the wisdom of which I questioned.

The other day on the way home from dialysis, I asked him if there were any periods of his life that were particularly challenging. His responses are often quite brief and belabored. He replied, “No. I’ve had a pretty good life so far.”

Two nights ago he said to mom, “You know, me and you are getting pretty old to still be alive. Especially me. Wanna have a drink together?”

To which the answer was of course, “yes”.