My thoughts are all over the place today so in an attempt to corral them, I’ll break tonight’s post into chewable bites, as in: Life According to Each Family Member, October 1, 2015.

I’ll start with Vernon, because he is the reason this blog even happens.

A few weeks ago, after receiving  some generous donations, I ordered a PEMF mat for our own. It had to travel all the way from Austria so it finally arrived late Monday.Today was the second time I was able to bring it to him. (I only WISH I could plug it in for him during his Dialysis sessions.) With Dialysis morning visits and afternoon school pick-up, I am only able to squeeze in three trips a week to the Care Home, but for a couple of weeks I want to be diligent with that time to plug in the mat . Of course I will be watching closely for his response, but I don’t know exactly what to expect. It’s good though…we aren’t experimenting with his chemistry in any way….although I do feel a bit like I’ve just returned with an expensive souvenir from a Star Trek Convention every time I bring it through the doors of Mesa Verde and then try to explain to the CNAs and Nurses what I’m trying to do. In the authoritative words of our beloved Dr. Dan: “If they want to let him lie on a mat, let them do it!” It’s so nice to know that we are medically accepted in this space. I can only imagine what other newfangled therapies and contraptions the staff has seen over the years from desperate families trying to keep their loved ones going.

Today, Vernon was slightly aggravated until it was time  to lie on the mat. He didn’t want to  have a bolus feeding, so it took some time to convince him it was good for him. I find he is still an intellectual at the core, and needs to be treated like one if he is going to work with the medical staff best. Once on the mat, he twisted and turned for ten minutes, then fell into what looked like a very restful nap. I’ll be sitting with him tomorrow morning through Dialysis, so I’ll be able to observe any immediate changes then. Hoping for the best, of course.

Now for family-member Joe. In my heart, I’ve adopted him as one of ours, whether he likes it or not. I’m pretty certain the feeling is mutual, though, as even today he told me how he’d got wind (he is President of the place, after all) of how the staff wanted to move Vernon to the “long-term” hallway, thinking  Joe would be better off without the burden of Vernon as a roommate. According to Joe, they thought he was getting to attached.

“I just want you to know,” said Joe intently. “I told them I have no intention of leaving him. I told them that looking out for him gives me a purpose. They can’t take that way from me!”

Oh, Joe! We love you so. Where would Vernon be without you? We are so blessed.

The sad thing for Joe at the moment is that his good friend Mary Lou is suddenly in the hospice room. She broke her hip in a fall last week, and when the surgeons opened her up to fix it, the cancer hiding away sprang up in full force. Her family is all around her now, and Joe is doing his best to make sure they know exactly what’s going on.

Joe and Mary Lou have been hanging out on the patio since before we arrived at Mesa Verde. Mary Lou always sat in the same spot, partly shaded from the sun. From the beginning, she reminded me of some classy older actress in a Fellini film. (So of course I shot her in black and white.) Here she is last June, in all her daily elegance.

This post is already long. I’ll save the other family members for tomorrow.

Sleep tight!