Of course it may just be that when you've been hit over the head with a sledgehammer every day for a while, a blow in the teeth with a baseball bat seems restful by comparison. But things again were a bit better yesterday. Mostly, we were still getting one- or two-word communications. But we put the phone by Dad and he picked it up, called Dietary and ordered his supper, complete with giving his full name and birthdate. So if properly motivated, he can still communicate. We should have known. The previous day, when Anne offered to go get him baked darkmeat chicken from Lizard's Thicket, he said "fried darkmeat chicken." Dude knows what he wants!
All of us think that he's been sedated, and heavily. And given that he recently had a heart attack, none of us object to him being sedated. Considering the sudden change in his apparent mental state, we would in fact be thrilled to find that it was due to him having been sedated. (Anyway, relative to the alternatives.) but Anne and Malcolm can't get anyone to admit that he's been sedated in any way. Frustrating it is. But, again, every time we see indications he's still in there (like when he grabbed the remote and turned the volume on CNN up to 11), we're happy about it. And hope to see him more.
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