Saturday, 18 June 2011

No rest for the sleepless

I'm tired this morning: I was awake again in the middle of the night. This time, I was woken by the smell of burning: my teen and his mate were trying (unsuccessfully) to make popcorn. Now I like a bit of popcorn myself, but not enough to help lads make it at 3.30am!

Then I couldn't get back to sleep. There's a lot to worry about when your dad is dying. He seems to be going downhill so fast. Yesterday I had to collect a bag of medications from the chemist: all drugs for the syringe driver. No, I didn't know what that was either. Turns out it's a sort of tap that will be fitted to his arm, so he can easily be given whatever drugs he needs as he approaches death.

My youngest boy came with me yesterday. He wanted to show his grandpa the balsa wood car he'd made. But my dad was too gaga to pay much attention.

I worry about how much of their grandpa's death I should let my kids see. Perhaps it's deeply disturbing. Perhaps I should keep them away. Probably. They only really met him a few months ago, after all. How sad for them to be losing him before they really get to know him well.


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