day 61

My sister and I talked today
about how we saw things

her daughters refuse to visit now (younger niece came over yesterday and went home almost right away.)
they are too afraid to see grandpa like this.
My sister understands. She said that she doesn't want their last memory of grandpa to be someone who strains for every breath and has mucus coming out of his mouth (she didn't say this... its just my interpretation)

We do not think Dad has long except that it's hard to tell

Even my mother, over a shared hour puzzle making, told my sister, "I don't think your father would have wanted to live like this."

We are all coming around... but like I said... it's so hard to discern whether he is near the end
or if he could last like this
for months and months

should he last that long?

My sister said
"taking away the stomach peg would be like murder. We would stop feeding him and that is the same as killing him. But... if he needed a machine to breath or keep his heart beating.... than there is no point to that."

I don't know how I feel about it.
He taught me to ride a bike
he didn't teach me to drive because on his first attempt to do so, I stopped the car and screamed, "Forget it!" and got out to walk home!
I have so many conflicted feelings were he is concerned I never know exactly what it is I am feeling.
But I think... I say... take him off the stomach peg
and feed him ice cream through his mouth
and chocolate
pour in vodka
or beer
give him every kind of food he's ever wished for...

I just remembered about 2 years ago. My dad had already dipped pretty far into Alzheimer disease but he was feeding himself at the time.
While eating breakfast (which took him about and hour and a half) he also sometimes ate... candles... part of the cereal box, napkins, pencils...
he would see a chocolaty treat inside a plastic bag and try for ages to pass his hand through the side of the bag until finally he'd just pick up the whole thing and start to eat it... it's almost how Bubble is now.

Half of me thinks the end should come soon. It's not funny any longer... the plastic is no longer a bag full of cookies but a thin tube sticking out of his stomach into which I poor an awful smelling brown liquid... it slowly descends into his gut... it bubbles and churns... sometimes he coughs and out spews a bit of food (its gone the wrong way! up the esophagus and not down.
It simply is nothing like any kind of real life
and it might as well be death.

The entire day went by
and the only word he said throughout the day was
"Hey" for one quick moment when I was giving him meds... just hey...
eyes stare sometimes but mostly they are close...

what do we do?
whats the answer?
any ideas?