dnr

I have my fingers crossed that dad will get a hospice bed today. That is a weird thought; does it mean I hope someone else will hurry up and die? Dunno. Anyway, if things go to plan he will get to St Raphaels, a place he helped fund with the charity he setup after mum died. Call that an investment in his future if you like.

I'm knackered, thanks for asking. Not on anything like the scale of the old man, but my blog, my rules. Since Monday dad has been downstairs just once, and fuck me was that a struggle. Before his morphine kicks in he is quick witted and fully aware of his situation. And he is fully aware of what he is doing when he refuses medication - other than pain meds - and food. He has now had enough; he's smart enough to know which fights to pick and which are just the bit above his weight division. We're keeping up fluids. He drinks water and orange cordial from old Lucozade Sport bottles, tipping them up as a baby would with their bottle. Even the effort of taking a bit of a drink can wear him out and he often appears to drift off to sleep with the bottle still hanging from his moiuth. He's frustrated with not being able to get comfortable. Getting him to the hospice is the best bet; once there he may stabilise, he may find some comfort and he may get the opportunity to eek out a few more weeks in a nursing home. Or he may drift away in relative comfort with as little pain as possible. I know what he wants. On Tuesday he turned to me and said "they can't stop me fasting"

...right, call from the Hospice and he should be in by lunch time...things to do.

In case you were wondering...DNR means do not resuccitate...