We take things day by day with my dad. After more than 10 years as his full-time carer, I know not to get my hopes up that things will magically get better. At the end of last year, he had some polyps removed from his colon. The surgery helped him to start eating again and gain some weight, something I had been hoping for. I bought him some clothes in bigger sizes for Christmas and now they fit him, which is so good to see. He has his appetite back and can stand long enough in the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Sometimes he’ll even go out for a little walk, which can make you feel as if he is making progress.
But then I will arrive the next day and he can’t get out of bed. He tells me he can’t move. He rolls and groans but can’t say what’s wrong. He’s not an old man so there’s clearly something. He used to be so fit: he played football, he had a dog he’d walk for miles, he baked his own bread. Yesterday was one of those bad days so he has another GP appointment tomorrow. This is how we live now – one day at a time without planning or hoping, or looking too far into the future.
