Saturday, April 14, 2012
It is difficult, sometimes. A is nearly 79, which is pushing 80, and has been bedridden since his stroke two years ago. To get into bed in the evening, he gets undressed and rolls over to the other side of the bed. Then I fold the bedclothes down, he rolls back, and gets in. Reverse in the morning. He almost couldn't do the roll tonight. Babies can roll. If he can't, what's he doing at home instead of in a hospital? But he won't hear of that. He'd rather die. Literally.