Three sheets to the wind

Not to riff on the sailing metaphor too much, but his blood calcium level (down a titch from yesterday) has left the guy punch drunk. He's been absolutely a stitch this morn. I'd try to share some of his kindergarten humor, but, as they say, you kind of had to be there. Anyway, he ate a whole bowl of oatmeal (slowly, slowly) first food other than a little ice cream in the last 3 days. And he managed, with much assistance, a trip into the bathroom. His son Chris is here now, and it is so sweet the look on Gil's face as he looks at Chris. An added benefit, Chris was a NA in a nursing home years ago, so he has all the right impulses and habits to help. (I keep forgetting to put on the latex gloves)

A sweet little ice cream story, I'd been going down to the cafeteria market to get him ice cream most days this last week. There was no "orange custard choc chip", his lifetime favorite, until 3 days ago. Yesterday when I went to get it I saw that the tub was getting low, and knew that they change up flavors whenever one runs out. So I told the woman behind the counter, " my husband may be dying, and the only food he's eaten in the last three days is a little orange custard choc chip, his favorite favorite Babcock Hall ice cream. Could you get another orange custard tub when you replace this one?" and she reached over the counter and patted my cheek and said "oh you poor dear", came around the counter and hugged me, and told her co worker, "we're going to keep the orange custard coming". I was so touched.

We're savoring the calm seas and the joy in Gil's face as he sort of sings along with Jeri Southern (an absolutely fabulous standards singer, she was Miles Davis's favorite). I know we're not around the Horn yet, but what a gift a quiet, uneventful day filled with his favorite music can be.