The cantata, hurting, Dad

Cantata practice on Saturday afternoon went well enough for us to understand and practice how we were to be positioned for each song during the play. It was pretty rough on the singing side of the practice because we had a fill-in pianist who was pretty much sight reading the music. It was a generous act on her part to do the best she could and it was deeply appreciated but it left everyone with a bit of apprehension. We made it through the entire dress rehearsal and it did give us an additional chance to sing the songs so it worked out well enough. It was the practice on Sunday afternoon that pulled it all together. The pianist who was to play for the performance, who is not from our church and a last-minute option, is very an accomplished musician. She is the daughter of a one of the members of the church who happened to be coming to her parents’ home for Christmas. The family has been in contact with her for several days prepping her to play for us; however, Sunday afternoon was the first time she had actually played through the music. With her help, we went through the songs several times, practiced getting to and from our positions on the stage and nailed down all the passages that had given us trouble. It was an enormous relief to me – and to the choir members. The performance that night was perhaps the best our choir has ever done. It was a great encouragement to all of them and it was fun to pull something off so well considering the setbacks we had ploughed through leading up to the performance.

Very few knew I was hurting so badly that it was difficult for me to focus. My diverticulitis had kicked in Friday night and by Sunday morning I was in a lot of pain. I hoped it did not show too much through the morning service but by the time we dismissed I was ready to lay down. So, when we got home I went straight to bed. Mama asked me to help her start dinner but I begged off and went to bed. With that she knew how badly I was hurting. The rest helped enough to get me through the afternoon and evening. That afternoon and into the evening I struggled through both the practice and the performance – then through a late-night snack at Wendy’s. By the time we got home again, I was ready for bed. I have found that if I get enough Ibuprofen, Aleve or Bayer Back and Body in me I can deal with the residual pain but it can still be intense. It seems to be abating, but I still will not eat anything solid for the next several days to give my aching colon a proper rest. Hopefully, this will pass without a doctor’s visit. I had warning that this was coming because I told Mama several weeks ago, I felt like my body was telling me to quit eating but I failed to follow through on that insight. Maybe I will be more prone to follow that unction next time. 

Martha called Sunday morning to tell me that the Nursing Home called her to ask permission to take Dad to the hospital because his blood sugar was high. She had discussed it with Danny earlier and the three of us agreed that that was not a good choice based on his medical directives. Later, on Sunday, she texted the siblings to let us all know that Dad was being moved to Hospice care. That should be happening today. For those who do not know, Hospice is called in to serve patients who will soon die. In the several times I have seen Hospice in action I have been thoroughly impressed with both the level of care they provide and the tremendous respect they give to their patients – none of whom survive. That field of service must be a calling rather than a vocation. Dad will soon be home.

It was an emotional weekend.