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About a month ago dad called me from his room in the Nursing Home, in the evening when his sundowners kicks in the most.
He wanted me to know that he got a job. Milking cows he said, down south. He said he needed to get a job to get out of "this dump".
Then he said that he couldn't take the job because his new wheelchair couldn't take him that far.
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hee hee...

in the midst of all the pain there's still some humor...

thanks for sharing this



PS...this isn't something that happened with my MIL, but I heard it from a friend last night.

Someone she knows is caring for a husband who has dementia. So they're in the drugstore sitting in the back waiting for a prescription when the man leans over and appears to be stroking something invisible.

The wife thinks, "now what?" and says to her husband, "Come on, you don't really believe there's a cat in here, do you?" And her husband says, "Don't be silly!!! I know it's not a cat...it's a dog!!!"
When my husband lay dying, he was unconscious much of the last two weeks, but at times he would be awake and lucid and we would talk. On one occasion he said that he didn't want to leave me - he was worried about me. I tried to reassure him by telling him that I would be okey. The children would take care of me if I needed anything. "No, no", he said impatiently, " I'm worried about your driving". I confess that I just had to laugh. Yes, I was crying too, but I still laugh to think about it. He never did get used to being the passenger and always thought I was driving off the side of the road. Obviously a fear he carried with him right until the end. The memory softens the horror of those last days.

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