The Doorbell

Saturday, 7 April 2007

The wireless doorbell under Dad's finger worked last night. I slept in my bedroom (vs. sleeping on the couch) and left the door cracked, just so I could hear the loud bong above the fan and TV noise. Like clockwork, from 3 - 3:30 am, the echoing "DING-DONG!" went off. I jumped up, and Dad wanted me to empty the urinal. Then, I turned on the TV and set the timer for an hour or so. I managed to go back to sleep for a couple hours....until, "DING-DONG" at 5:30 am. This time, I didn't quite 'jump up', but more like walked like a zombie and said, "I'm coming," while mumbling "I'm tired" under my breath.

Dad wanted me to empty the urinal, then do range of motion with his arms and legs, take away the doorbell from his index finger, then fix his mask. Give him a sip of water. Finally, fix his blanket around him so that it is just so.

Before I walked away, he told me "Sorry. I know. I read your blog." I sauntered back to my room and cried. Cried because my body is so tired. Cried because this is hard. But, most of all, I cried because I don't want Dad to feel like he's burdening us with his care.

I managed to go to sleep for a few more hours without dreaming of doorbells.