Called Dad, yesterday.

[capri0mni]

I didn't want to call him on Thursday, because I couldn't think of anything to say beyond either how upset I was or trivial chitchat, which didn't seem right to lay on him through the phone.

But then, through insomniac listening to the BBC radio, I heard a report about Plane Stupid, a Greenpeace-styled direct action group aimed at stopping people from flying everywhere, because the altitude at which planes fly make them a greater danger to the environment than cars and trains, which is exactly the argument he's been making about jets for at least the last 30 years. Often, when we were driving in the car, and a jet would fly overhead he'd point out to me how quickly a fine haze would spread out from one of those contrails, and completely fill a previously clear blue sky (like within a few minutes). He also noticed, and commented on, how deep blue and clear the sky was in the days after 9/11, when all jets in the U.S, were grounded. For him, the issue was (and still is) as clear as the nose on other people's faces. But when he'd try, back then, to point this out to his fellow pilots (he flew for Eastern Airlines for thirty years), and they would just look at him funny and walk away, as if he were wearing a tin foil hat. So it was nice to be able to pass the news on to him that finally, his views are being vindicated.

The tumor is in his left hemisphere -- the part of his brain that forms words; luckily, the part of the brain that keeps things in perspective and sees the relationships between things is still clear. But trying to have a conversation with him is like watching someone bob for apples. He can't form consonant sounds, and sometimes, whole words go missing -- or can't get out. At one point, he said: "ahI 'an' ard-ex," which I heard as "I can't hard text." After a bit of free-association on my part, I was able help him say that I'll need to tell Toni (my cousin) that she needs to have power of atterney, because he can't sign his name, anymore. At least, his sense of humor is intact; he starts laughing when the word he wants isn't there.

I called Toni after our conversation, and passed on his news, and said that we two need to figure out how to get together and work out what needs to be done with all the property and assets. I think she found this a little disturbing, because he's not dead yet. But I know. from conversations we've had over the last few months (as in he's told me directly) that he lies awake at night worrying about how I'll handle all the money and things after he's gone. So I think he'd actually be comforted if he knew we were starting to tackle these questions before he dies.

It's just so frustrating that the only means of communication we have is the phone, and we can't use facial expression and/or pictures to communicate. At least, he can still understand what people say to him, even if he can't easily get a reply out. I hope that lasts for quite a while longer.

Comments

[lizziebelle.livejournal.com]

You're smart to get things in order now, and not waiting until grief might make it too hard. I'm glad you have such a good head on your shoulders. :)

Hugs, and strength to help you get through this!

[capriuni.livejournal.com]

Toni, however, is too sentimental to deal with it yet, and she's the executor of the will...

And the logistics of getting toegether is another headache.

[kalibex.livejournal.com]

....

[capriuni.livejournal.com]

yeah.