Margaret has a bad cold today and thus couldn't visit Dad. He was driving her to distraction with phone calls about how he was starving. Apparently, his appetite has come back but not alas his short-term memory. I called and talked to his nurse who is another peach (if men can be peaches); he said Dad had had breakfast and that his lunch was on its way.
On the whole, I was dreading visiting, but he had indeed gotten his lunch and was no longer saying things like, "I'll just sit here and starve then." He wasn't well pleased with the food, though, pretty much reprising the old joke, "The food here is TERRIBLE! And such small portions!" He's most likely going back to Lowman Home tomorrow.
Honestly, I don't know. He looks much, much better, and his speech is much clearer and more coherent. But he blanks out on words like "dialysis." It's still a bit worrying. Still, compared to Sunday, when it looked like I would be picking out a burial suit, things are really rosy. Even if he DID want to watch "Ellen." Now THAT'S some scary stuff!
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