January 30

As we wrap up the end of dad’s third week of treatment, I notice that he’s walking around a lot, getting himself organized, and spending a lot more time in the kitchen with the rest of us, rather than in bed sleeping. I worry he may be doing this to a fault – spending too much time with us means he’s not getting as much rest as his body may need to heal. We try to urge dad to rest as much as possible, but it’s hard to convince him to stay in bed when he bursts with energy to go to amoeba, head into the city, go to bookstores in Berkeley, etc. I have a hunch that he’s trying to make the most of his energy while he still has it, and all of us are happy to keep him company on these expeditions, large and small. 

Dad started out the day with treatment and an appointment with my mom. Bob, Charlie, dad, and I then headed to the Stanford Bookstore in search of a few books (Bob’s reading The Great Cholesterol Myth – click here to check it out yourself – and has been spreading the word far and wide). Though the bookstore didn’t have any of the books we were searching for, we spent the morning sitting in the Bookstore’s cafe, drinking coffee and talking. It’s really comfortable to pass the time with Charlie and Bob, and I’ve found the last few days to be more relaxed and peaceful than in the weeks and days leading up. I think it’s a combination of things: acclimation to the entire situation, dad’s increased mobility and energy, as well as the positive presence of both Bob and Charlie. 

After spending about an hour at the bookstore, I headed off to pick up my dear roommate from the airport. Erin’s timing couldn’t have been better – I’ve been doing my best to transition into the unexpected move from Boston back to California, but she she has a certain way of soothing me. I’m ever grateful for her visit. Plus she could use a bit of CA sunshine – Boston is in the dead of winter, so we’re heading off on a hike tomorrow to get her caught up on Vitamin D. 

This afternoon, Charlie and Bob reorganized our entire garage in about an hour and a half (the same task has taken my brothers and dad more than a weekend to achieve, on several occasions). Meanwhile dad organized and reorganized his gear, and later headed off to nap. When Erin and I got back, we slowly began preparing tonight’s dinner. Suze, one of mom’s closest friends joined us for dinner tonight, and the six of us (missing only Charlie was out in Palo Alto for the evening) shared the evening eating, drinking tea, and catching up. Dad headed off shortly after he finished dinner, while the rest of us sat by the fire into late. We were accompanied by one uncharacteristically faded dog. 

Tomorrow wraps up the 21st session of dad’s six-week radiation. 

January 29

After the regular round of meeting and radiation with mom, Bob and Charlie took dad on quite the adventure today: a medicinal errand, as well as a trip to dad’s favorite record store in the area, Amoeba. This combination of errands is exhausting for anyone, and we all expected him to crash pretty hard on the tail end of this trip. Believe it or not, he was moving around the house organizing his stuff (he moves his things from one bag to another to another. Things are *always* lost in translation, making it one of his most maddening bad habits for the rest of us. We’ll hide his other bags to prevent going totally batty) and importing the new album he bought. 

I’m not sure what the name of the album or artist is, but it’s characteristically shitty music by anyone’s standards. I remember dad blasting Tupac on one of our drives when I was in middle school. His taste has since plummeted, and now he prefers obscure, tense, unharmonious inventions. Today I think he managed to find the most obscure, “weird” album they sold at Amoeba (mind you, this record store is the size of a bowling alley, brimming with new and used records of every genre). 

Charlie can vouch for me on this one: as dad started playing his new CD, Charlie initially asked if dad was playing some of his early recordings of his guitar practice. The look on Charlie’s face when he learned that, no, they traveled over an hour just to get to the record store for my dad to pick out this single piece of “music”, was too good for words. It may have even been the highlight of my day. Good stuff, and goes to show that in some ways, dad’s still as weird as ever.

For the remainder of the afternoon, dad relaxed and reorganized. Over and over. As is habitual at this point, he spoiled his dinner with junk food of some form (today hershey’s kisses) before we were able to convince him of eating some real food. Over dinner, Mom, Bob, Charlie, and I discussed a strategy to confront this: just get rid of all the sugary food so that way he can’t grab two handfuls of chocolate rather than ask for “real” food from us. So, though dad goes nutty for cookies, we’re trying to stay on top of keeping those out of the house. Looking back on the previous entries I’ve written, this issue has been dealt with very schizophrenically. I’m sure dad will beg for another round of cookies and we’ll give in. For now, we’ll look for more natural desserts and recipes, so that we’re able to find a middle ground and dad doesn’t feel like a prisoner. 

Dad went to sleep shortly after the Hershey’s incident. Charlie, Bob, and I fixed up a delicious frittata with kale, sweet potato, onion, heirloom tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil, as well as some of Charlie’s special brussels sprouts. With mom, the four of us shared a really nice meal together. 

Today is Miles’s birthday, turning 19. Hunter’s was the 20th, and he turned 21. I don’t think they read this, but this has been on my mind. Those two have been so accommodating and accepting of the little we have to give. I sent off Hunter’s birthday package the day of his bday, and it got to him yesterday. Miles has one in the making – sort of. He’ll get it, though I can’t help but feel heavy knowing that the birthday celebrations for both my brothers have been delayed. Though presents are just representations and they’ve repeated that it’s not a big deal, I’m sad about how little I have in me right now. 

I found this Kennism while looking over his Facebook profile. For those of you who are friends with him (it may be a slim few of you, he’s kept a low friend count ever since he verbally harassed one of my boyfriends), you may enjoy looking back on some of his old posts. One gem, referred to by dad as an old favorite:

Two monks were arguing about a flag. One said: “The flag is moving.”

The other said: “The wind is moving.”

The sixth patriarch happened to be passing by. He told them: “Not the wind, not the flag; mind is moving.”

Goodnight, all.

January 28

Full house today. Mom and dad headed off to their regular 7am meeting. I’m living in a house of (relative to me) early risers! They were clomping around outside my room at 6am, so today was an early day for me, too! I joined dad, Bob, and Charlie at breakfast, and saw dad off to his meeting. I then found a quiet space in Hunter’s room where I was able to read the paper and drink coffee. It’s a fine balance – sometimes all I want is to be surrounded by lots and lots of people. Other times all I need is some quiet and peace of mind. Today I felt overwhelmed by the amount of loving support in the house. 

Dad got back from radiation around 9:30, and was in bed when I got back home around 9:45. Dave, Bob, dad, and I have been working on setting up a bike for me to get around on, and we’ve started working on Miles’s old Bianchi Pista. It’s tiny, so there are a few more steps needed before it’s comfy and commutable. So, when I walked into the room where dad was resting, he immediately pushed for us to go to the bike store. It was a good idea to get it done, he rationalized, despite his pervasive exhaustion and low affect. As much as I want to hang out on University Ave with dad, and as much as I wanted to get this bike set up, it really wasn’t a good idea to go in today. Dad is wiped, but I’m not sure he recognizes the extent of his exhaustion. In many ways, he’s playing host to all the dear ones who are staying at the house and visiting. We’re all working on prioritizing his sleep before anything else. 

Though we didn’t leave the house again today, there was a lot of energy throughout the day. Shingo and Isabel came by for a nice visit. Isabel is a nurse, and has this ability to soothe dad and I. And Shingo has been family for years and years, and has been spending a lot of time surfing these days. He shared some stories with dad about his latest surfing exploits. 

On his way home from radiation, dad picked up an Apple TV to set up in our playroom. We don’t have TV in our house, but dad’s hankering to sit down to a (very, very Ken sort of) movie: Ashes and Dust? Or maybe the name is Loneliness and Ashes. Whatever the specific name, it takes place in Poland in WW2 and was made in the 50s. Also, it can only be picked up at the local library. Any takers? I think I’ll sit this one out. 

After Isabel and I set up the new Apple TV, we all had a casual lunch. Danny arrived to give dad a (oh-so-very needed) shower. At this point, I headed off to find some quiet. I find it’s tough to maintain balance and peace these days, though I’m certainly appreciative of all the extra help. 

Dad spent the rest of the day sharing stories with Isabel, Shingo, Danny, Bob, and Charlie. His appetite seems to have quieted a bit today. Otherwise, he’s still walking with fluidity! In terms of his presence and spirit today, I experienced him as more subdued than this weekend, though far more engaged from the last week. Here I go seeking out trends again. He was happy to spend the day with his people, and we’re all happy now that he’s happy, and showered.

Onward to Wednesday.

January 27

Dad headed back to radiation this morning, accompanied by Dave, Bob, and my uncle Charlie. He couldn’t have been in better company: this pack traveled around all day together, venturing out to Ramen in Mountain View (one of Bob and dad’s favorite spots), Patagonia (typical), and the local Mountain View bookstore (also typical). 

I didn’t catch up with the crew until around noon, so many of my reports come from the mouth of our dear friend, Bob. He noted how dad’s mobility was strong, and seems to be ever strengthening. Dad was more disorganized and less “himself” today compared to the past few days. He was more impulsive (heading to Ramen an hour and a half before opening because he wanted to have the soup at that moment) today, which reminds me of a few days ago with his never-ending list of requests that have to be met right now! Dad also had a lot less downtime today (a feature of the full house of good friends), which may explain his tired and low-energy state. It’s also likely that heading back to radiation reintroduced a demanding and high dose of his energy first thing in the morning. As before, his state of being may be explained by a number of reasons. 

Bob drove Dave to the airport around 2:30 this afternoon. I’m sad to see Dave go, and hope for his return soon. Dad caught up on a bit of rest during this time, as Charlie whipped up some of his classic lace cookies. When Bob returned, they sat in front of the fire while discussing different card games, eventually playing some 3-person cribbage. 

On my end, all my Boston boxes arrived (nine in total!) this afternoon. Thus, I was unpacking all my books and clothes into my room here for most of the afternoon. Today, as each day, I’m grateful for the extra hands on deck – I wouldn’t have been able to get all those boxes unpacked without it. It made a big difference for dad, as well as mom and I (and Carol, who gets the week off!). 

I notice dad’s lower energy compared to the previous few days, but he was nonetheless active and talkative. It’s important to remember that each day is different: for his tumor, for his brain, for his motor control, for his personality. I find it much more peaceful to look at his state of being as independent days, rather than to search for trends. 

Tonight I’m missing my brothers, but am content to be sitting in front of the fire with the dogs. 

With thanks–

January 26

Another great day over here. Dad woke up and had a good breakfast with mom, Dave, and Bob (they all tend to wake up sometime around / shortly after 5am, so I catch them after these early morning adventures). Mom headed out around 7am, just about when the four of us began spending time next to the fire. 

Dad’s energy continues to follow a positive slope: he was enthusiastic, emotionally available, and ready to get the show on the road by around 8am. We had a long list of things to do: beard trim, Patagonia, bike shop, Stanford shopping center, and a trip to Santa Clara Valley Hospital (to pick up the huge bag of books that somehow got lost in translation in one of the many transfers from ICU to rehab to ICU to transitional care to Stanford). 

Increased emotional and physical energy facilitate an important opportunity for dad to become more independent with basic self-care needs. Today and yesterday, we worked on getting him more comfortable with getting himself undressed and changed into clean clothes, using the toilet on his own, and navigating from wheelchair to chair to rug to bed more independently. Today, with some serious undivided focus, he was able to unbutton his shirt. He asked for help with getting dressed, but was able to move more fluidly. 

Other changes: dad has been asking us to teach him how to do some of the new tasks that have come up. For example, we just picked up a new coffee maker with individual packets of coffee for easy production. Dad drinks coffee throughout the day, so the machine solved the ongoing problem of having to measure out fresh grinds and water each time dad wanted coffee. He asked us to teach him how to use the machine, and is close to being able to make his own cup whenever he likes. 

Anyways, after getting dad dressed and caffeinated, he and I headed to University Avenue to get some of the errands out of the way. Bob and Dave took on the arduous task of fetching the books from Santa Clara (really, this place will never go into part of our past. There is an ongoing list of tasks that connect us to this dreary place). Because of how comfortable dad has been with his walking, Dad and I decided to ditch the wheelchair at home, and set off for University Ave without it. After parking, we walked to his local barber shop for his beard trim. This barber shop is one of those stereotypical places you’d imagine a barber shop to be. Dad sat there with the long line of men waiting to be trimmed by their favorite barber. In other words, this place is quite the scene. I imagine it was really good for dad to sit there with the crew and shoot the shit for awhile.)

He was happy with the beard trim, but his energy was crashing. We decided to make a pit stop at the Gyro place next door to the barber shop. We shared an early lunch together, and I was really struck by how vital he was. Last week, spending time with dad felt a lot like spending time with someone who was on their phone for the duration of time together: he was unfocused, constantly zoning in and out, and not the same person who I know him to be. Today, although he may have been tired, he was definitely mentally available to whatever I felt like bringing up. For me, and (I imagine) dad, this weekend has felt very enriching, and a nice escape from the complete exhaustion of the previous weeks. It might be a good time for loved ones to reach out and call him up – he’s spending more time awake and has more energy available for conversation. 

After gyros, dad was zapped and ready to get back in front of the fire. Poor Bob and Dave had no success with fetching the books, unfortunately using up some of their kindly donated time to Santa Clara for nothing (really, the Santa Clara missions never end!). Back at home, dad and I were greeted by Steve. (I say this everyday, but it makes the difference to have a full house.) Dad made himself some coffee, and headed back to his hospital bed to rest for awhile. 

Mom and dad headed out around 2pm to pick up Charlie, my mom’s brother, from the airport. Charlie has kindly donated a large chunk of time to help with things around the house. It will be nice to have him around for the next week and a half. 

He’s been on the upswing the last few days. I imagine this could be explained by a combination of things: newfound excitement about his visitors, acclimation to the radiation and chemo (if there is such a thing), and maybe the treatment is temporarily shrinking a bit of the tumor (haven’t heard this for sure yet from the oncologist / radiologist, so this may be pure conjecture). Whatever the explanation, it’s been really wonderful to have dad back. 

A shout-out to Dave and Bob, who have been staying with us for the weekend: it’s been so wonderful to have the two of them around the house. They bring in a constant and supportive presence into the house, and soothe dad in a beautiful way. Dad remarked how good it’s been to have such historic friendships around while all this is going on. Personally, I’ve loved having the extra company. Plus Dave helped me fix up one of our old bikes, so I’m a doubly appreciative. I’m sad to see Dave head off tomorrow, happy to have Bob stick around, and grateful for their kind visit this weekend.

Tomorrow he heads back to radiation at 9am. I hope to get in a walk outside with him, but will wait and see how he’s feeling tomorrow morning. 

January 25

Dad walked unassisted into the kitchen this afternoon as if the last month was some strange nightmare. He’s wearing his glasses that we picked out together while he was in France, wearing one of his nice collared shirts. I cannot summon the words to express just how fantastic this was to see – mobile, agile, strong, and just like the Ken we all remember. 

Andy noted how if she didn’t know of everything that had happened in the last month, she wouldn’t have noticed much of a change from the seasoned individual we all know and love. 

But I am getting ahead of myself: Dad went to a meeting with mom and Dave early this morning. Bob and I held down the fort until they all returned around 8:30am. From there, dad traveled with Dave and Bob to Half Moon Bay and sat in the 70° sunshine, watching the surf. Mavericks took place yesterday, but from the sound of it there were still lots of surfers out. The California weather has brought along an unseasonably warm winter, which is welcomed from this Bostonian. I know that Dave and Bob have also happily embraced the warm weather while they’re here for their visit. Sunshine and warmth makes for easier travel – less layers, more time outside (both of which make Dad happy, as you’d expect). 

Anyways, the boys grabbed some Thai food and spent the afternoon in Half Moon Bay. From their reports (and photographs), the trip went really well, and dad came home contented and tired. I returned home shortly after they got back, and found dad resting next to both of his oldest friends. I know how much these two mean to him, and can tell by his high energy that he feels grateful for their time. 

Dad rested throughout the early afternoon, while the rest of us made some café au lait’s (milk frother is a huge improvement in my quality of life) and caught up on the paper. Dad rejoined us about an hour after this, and we all talked about the news. He returned to his bed after a half hour visit.

Shortly after, Kelly, Anna, and Andy arrived for their savored weekend visit. Bob, Dave, Kelly, Anna, and Andy spent time catching up in the kitchen, while I worked out some of the preparatory dinner moves. I find I can focus best when my hands are busy, and it was a calming way to pass the afternoon. Around 5pm, dad walked into the room from his nap (as I described in the beginning of this post). Mom joined in shortly after this. 

Dinner with the crew felt really special tonight: I always say how much I love a full house, and tonight there were lots of high spirits. The combination of these two factors made for a memorable meal. I’m feeling fortunate: for loyal friends and family who come to spend time with us every week, for my dad and his strong will to be present, for delicious food, and for sustaining feelings of community. This may not be easy, but it could certainly be a lot harder. 

Dad’s thinking of getting a tattoo: “Die trying” 

With love,



January 24

Dad made huge strides today! Real strides: he was up walking with serious fluidity and grace throughout the morning. 

It all started when my mom accidentally forgot to pack the wheelchair for their morning runs. Dad, a pretty good improvisor all his life, took the opportunity to work on his walking, and spent the morning walking around with nary a stumble. The two of them walked to Patagonia after radiation, and picked out another beanie (today’s fixation). 

Mom and dad arrived back home around 11am, where they were greeted by Dave Haas and Bob Wilkie: two of my dad’s most historic friendships. Dad grew up with these two in Northern Oregon, and the two made the trip out for a visit this weekend. Dad lit up being around them. When I walked into the house this morning, it was as if I had time traveled back to three months ago: dad was sitting in one of our living room chairs (rather than his wheelchair), looking polished and centered. He was talking about books, and came off as totally engaged. As I’ve noted in my earlier entries, dad has been less present the last few days. This was a very different person sitting across from me today. I have a hunch it has something to do with his visitors, as well as the 10 out of a total 25 treatment sessions. He’s making his way through the treatment: once he finishes the 25 radiation therapy sessions, he’ll be maxed out on radiation, thus putting an end to this page of the illness. 

Dad shared a lunch with Dave and Bob, and then meandered back into his makeshift bedroom (our old living room) for a long afternoon nap. He was briefly interrupted by occupational therapy, where he worked on rolling out putty with his hands (I imagine something for precision grip and strengthening of his hands). Dad also demonstrated how his left arm (up until this point, the part of his body that has faced the most apparent physical consequences of surgery) has regained a lot more strength. He was moving it up and down, shrugging his shoulders, and increasing his mobility. This was a great step for him as well. Now the trick is for him to stay on top of his physical therapy before the exhaustion hits each day. This is tricky, because his energy can drop in a matter of minutes, and anything following his crash is soon forgotten. 

Dad also mentioned a working goal for him in his recovery: walk the 10k Bay to Breakers. I plan to take him to Sawyer Camp Trail in the upcoming week, or even this weekend, where he can start stretching his legs at a greater distance. I’ll post more on that when the time comes. 

I’m here snuggled up here with Kelly. It’s so nice to have a full house of visitors – keeps the energy and spirits high. I feel a humbling degree of gratitude to all my close friends and family. The Boston front (Hunter, Robbie, Erin, Arielle, and Dan) came together to move all my stuff out of my apartment. Today I get to sleep with “my” pillows and blankets – like my dad has said, it’s the small things that make the biggest difference. Boston family, I don’t have words to express how deeply I feel you over here. 

Dad and I were talking today about the reservoir of love that has come his way in the last month. While he may not be the most communicative person at the moment, know that he feels and savors the energy coming from each of you. 

With love,

January 23

Hello dear friends and family, 

Mom and dad went to radiation this morning at the usual 8:45 time. Mom continues to mention how bright and upbeat dad has been lately, which I have had difficulty locating in him. As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, I experience him as removed from his usual engaged, deep-thinking self. Though I still feel this to be the case, I did feel a sweet reminder of Old Ken today: he sent me a NYT article from today’s paper about the importance of reading, or “Reading Books is Fundamental” (http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/23/opinion/blow-reading-books-is-fundamental.html?hpw&rref=opinion). 

When I got home, dad and Danny were sitting in the sun on our back porch. Something I love about Danny is that he easily locates how to make dad’s time more human. The two of them go out for coffee, clam chowder, and run silly other errands. As trifling as these may appear, these make a huge difference for dad. He has always been an individual, and really enjoys spending time on his own to process and move through different obstacles. Now, everything’s different, and I think he’s handling his inherent dependence on everyone else with enormous grace. 

I brought dad and Danny their regular In-n-out orders this afternoon. Throughout my life, dad predictably goes for a #1 with pickles and onions, coke no ice, large fries at least once a week. He mentioned how he was fixing for a good burger the other day, so this was an easy way for his needs to be met. It made a big difference! He told me that this burger was the highlight of his day. That and the new coffee machine that has been his latest fixation. 

As is obvious to anyone who’s reading this blog, my dad is not the healthiest eater. Carol, mom, and I are finding ways to put more nutrients into his diet, but that can be tough when all he is up to eating are cookies and burgers. One must find the balance between indulging dad in what makes him happy and free, and giving him healthy enough food to keep him strong and feeling good. 

Dad’s energy was pretty high today, though he did head to bed for the night around 3:30. Tomorrow we’ll get his beard trimmed. 

Looking forward to seeing Bob Wilkie and Dave Haas tomorrow!

With love,

PS: I have a proposition for all interested: I registered for the San Francisco marathon this upcoming July. There are half marathon and marathon distances offered in this race, and I am sort of thinking it could be a cool, Ken-like goal for his crew to consider tackling. I know dad has always found the sweetness in the struggle, and I want to do this race as a way to feel close to him. Let me know if you’re interested – Robbie and I are signed up, and the Atherton house will be open for all participating runners. 

January 22

Mom headed the radiation run today, and noted how energized dad was. Hopefully the 18 hours of sleep helped him recover from the exhausting day yesterday. Mom and I are trying to share the work in the mornings, so I had a relaxed morning before meeting up with mom for a meeting with the social worker. 

Dad’s day was great: he and Danny had a great, long shower. So luxurious that dad even expressed how good it was. In all my years of knowing dad, I’ve never heard him talk about how good a shower was – it sort of contradicts his entire MO. When I got home from PAMF this afternoon, Danny was happy to report that he and dad headed out to grab lunch at the local seafood spot. They shared some chowder, as well as some fish and chips. Danny, a formidable man was unable to keep up with the way dad packs food away. This is a regular trend: Danny is always, always shocked by the amount of food dad demands, and he and I regularly share jokes about it. 

I joke about the cookies, but I don’t think that all the sugar is doing anything to help prevent the growth of dad’s cancer. When I raised the keto diet to dad’s doctor, Dr. Jackson mentioned that he thought that starting up a diet – especially a diet as intense as the keto diet – was a very bad idea, especially given my dad’s thinness. So we’re giving dad most everything he demands. But he’s demanding almost a box of cookies a day! I raise the point that all this sugar can’t be making him feel all that good, nor can’t be all that good for his body, but find myself unheard. So, dad will eat whatever he’s happy with in the house, or will send all his minions off to grab him a burger, some seafood, or anything else that happens to strike his fancy. 

Today was an incredibly emotional day for me: as we move into our third week at home, the reality is sinking further and further in. Both my brothers and Robbie are out of the house, and things are generally the same as they were a month ago, and the same as they will be in the foreseeable future. I’m working to figure out how I can move in a positive direction without tiring or overworking myself. In reality, I think it will just require the patience and kindness to wait for things to sort themselves out, as they are prone to do eventually. But today I am aching for my Boston family and deeply missing my world before a month ago. 

Dad is comfortable in his hospital bed, and the rest of us are all snuggled into bed. Jon Z is in town again for a visit (lucky us, as always!), and we were spoiled with fantastic food by Babsey and my grandmother. We ate some fresh bread and chicken curry in the warm company of Strand and Carlyn Sylvester – some of our closest family friends. 

Eyes are drooping with each passing minute. Safe and good, good night. 

January 21

When dad and I headed to radiation this morning, he was strikingly exhausted. He’s usually upbeat and ready for anything in the morning, so his depletion early on today was surprising. 

He’s reflected that the radiation sessions feel like a “nice meditation break” in his day. Aside from such comments, he hasn’t been one to talk about his illness. At times, he’ll mention something along the lines of “wow, this must be really hard to see your dad like this”, but this is the extent of his discussion. 

For me, I’ve felt periods of deep sadness, total frustration, and clearheaded organization required to just get some of what needs to be done, done. I remember during the first week of rehab in Santa Clara, I was sitting with him while he slept when I became overwhelmingly emotional. He heard me sniffling, and softly asked if I was okay. I went into his hospital bed and snuggled with him until he was ready to wake up. It’s difficult for me to know where his head’s at with this whole thing. He’s emotionally distant and often very disengaged. Not to mention, his attention span is short. Whether he’s too overwhelmed to talk about what’s going on, or he has yet to wrap his head around it all remains to be seen. 

Anyways, after radiation I got him to the nail salon. A bull-headed individualist all his life, he has gracefully welcomed some direction and help this past month. Although he wasn’t so inclined to get his nails done, he trusted me enough to consent. We went to our favorite spot, and my dad received his first ever pedicure. I’m not sure if it was on his bucket list before today, but I think he was pretty satisfied with the experience. Halfway through, he told me that “this was the call.” I imagine his future pedicures will be easier to motivate. 

We returned home straight from the nail salon, where dad spent the rest of the day in bed. He was utterly wiped, and didn’t have much of an appetite (barring cookies). All these cookies keep spoiling his appetite! We’re trying to figure out a way for him to get some real food in addition to the cookies. Perhaps a “no dessert before breakfast/lunch/dinner” rule can be implemented in the future. 

Danny came by around 11, and tried to engage my dad as best as he could. Unfortunately, once dad hits the bed around noon, it’s difficult to convince him to leave it. 

Tomorrow we’ll give him a good shower and take him for a walk around the neighborhood after his morning treatment.