8:22 a.m.

The pool table is gone. Since Scott left I didn’t play once; yesterday it was taken to be reconditioned and then moved to the owner’s new house.

After Scott left the TV was never turned on, except to watch a rented movie. I had the cable disconnected. Then he returned and discovered there are still two channels that come through, so the box is often on, again. Will be, while he’s here.

I stay out of the living room. Too easily taken in, am I. I like Outrageous, and CSI, and apparently can still watch them. They have not been missed in the past six weeks, but if they’re on, I’ll get stuck in front of them.

He has taken the boys to the bus stop, and the school, after bringing a mug of Fair Trade black coffee to me in bed. It’s a magic trick that always gets me up.

It is not a regular golf day for Dad, but we’ll go over anyway. A hospital bed is being brought in and we will bring Mom’s bed over here for Everett to use. A couple other items to make things easier (wheelchair, commode) will be delivered, as well. For the past week she has been so sleepy she can hardly stay awake to eat or talk.

Yesterday I stayed with her while Dad went golfing, and held her arm as she walked from the living room to her bed. She takes tiny, shuffling steps, eyes on the floor; lists to one side. She sat on the bed while I helped her into clean pyjamas, and in the process sat her in a rocking chair -- lower -- beside it. After washing her face and applying lotion, I was unable to safely get her back into bed. She had to sleep there in the chair; I sat nearby and read a Maclean’s magazine, keeping one eye on her in case she should slip out of the chair somehow.

When Scott got there we easily moved her onto the bed, which she lay across, sideways. I leaned forward to put my arms under her and swing her around, and she quipped “We need a rotisserie!” Her sense of humour is intact.

The cause of SleepingBeautyhood is probably just the drug she has been taking to deal with nausea that started up a week ago; she thought she’d rather be sleepy than nauseated, and who could blame her. But it has incapacitated her and the palliative care nurse has convinced Dad to start cutting it back.

Otherwise, I fear, changes would be afoot .... Mom loves her home so much that the thought of having to move her out of it in order to provide proper and safe care is not something any of us look forward to.

I called over last night to check in. She’d been awake about an hour and a half, had eaten and enjoyed some supper, and had a tiny bit of ice cream before falling asleep in “her” chair in the living room. Dad sounded heartened. The nurse had been optimistic that the problem was the nausea drug, and so he hadn’t given Mom much of it at the regular dosing time. Our fingers are crossed.

It’s time to phone over and see how their night went.

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