I am house-sitting for BFriend again, which has turned into Hospice for Jorge, who is BFriend's stepfather, and LoverMan's father.  BFriend had left town, and I was to check in on Jorge, while she was gone.  LoverMan lives in San Francisco, and of course can't be up here very much, altho he's visited Jorge far more times than the rest of the siblings. 

I checked on Jorge late  2 nites ago, and he was in his chair, which was usual for him. He said everything was fine, he was fine, thanks for the dinner, see ya later.  I went back down the street to BFriend's house, secure that all was as usual with Jorge. I checked on him again the next day (yesterday) to find Jorge had not gone to bed, which he had always done before. He asked me to help him into bed, which surprised me at first, cause he never asks for help.  I helped him up, he shuffled to his bed, sat down on the mattress, and brown stuff oozed out of his underwear.  ACK.  "Jorge, we need to get you in the bathroom to clean up", I said. He pushed me away, and lifted his legs into bed, continuing to ignore me. I tucked him in, while screaming inside my brain, "ick ick ick, what do I do, what do I do, I didn't sign up for this, dammit, BFriend all to hell!"

I called her. No answer. I called LoverMan. No answer. Greeaat. I took a look at Jorge's shower, telling myself, "Okay, I can do this". But the shower didn't have any handicap bars, no bathmat. I knew then, with my own MS limitations, that I wouldn't be able to shower him alone. So I called his grandson, who was able to come help 2-3 hours later.  Considering that Jorge may have been stuck in that chair in the livingroom for 24 hours, maybe even more, ... well, you can imagine the shower mess. And trying to hold up a 100 lbs or less, extremely frail, weak and full of pride man is no small feat, despite having a 230 lb., no nonsense cop grandson in your corner. I stood in the shower, holding my arms straight out in front of me, so that Jorge could stand between them, using my arms as bars to hang on to.  We washed him down with a washclothe and the shower spray nozzle. 

Can we talk about the laundry? I think we used every towel and washclothe in the building, and I tore the house apart looking for clean sheets, mattress pad, sheepskin, blankets, pillowcases, T-shirt, underwear, etc. Keep in mind that Jorge's wife died 3 years ago, and nothing has been touched since then. My kingdom for some Windex, Pledge, and some 409, cause everything felt so dusty and musty. 

Afterwards, I emailed both BFriend and LoverMan to tell them I was just going to stay with him, that it was time, he couldn't be left alone anymore.  I also think it was easier for Jorge to accept help from me, cause he didn't want his stepdaughter being the one cleaning him up, which anyone could understand.  Me taking care of him made the most sense, because I had no life and was the most transportable, with no obligations to anyone but my dogs.  He knew me from years past, and was comfortable enough with me, so I felt strongly that it was the best decision all around, specially considering BFriend and I had talked about it before, and so had LoverMan.  The time had arrived. 

I've moved my computer from my house into his livingroom,  and brought my dogs down too, because there's a big fenced in backyard.  Yea!  The dogs can have a life too!  Then I ordered HBO because the second season of Deadwood starts in March and I am a Deadwood slut, and I want my damn HBO!  So I'm now residing with Jorge in his house for the time being.  I'm gonna make sure BFriend takes him to the doctor on Monday, just to be sure I know where he's at physically, and hopefully someone will bring up Hospice.  I think it's time to consider that option, and I want us all on the same page.  I feel like I'm gonna need that kind of support and back-up from hospice, and it's really cool that I've already taken the 6 week Hospice course some years ago, so I feel pretty comfortable with being here. 

In retrospect, BFriend and I realized he must have had a stroke in the chair, which explained his extreme sudden weakness and why he was so ammendable to having help.  I also think it made him "not quite with us in the present sense of the word" and he didn't remember what happened, or the shower, which made it easier on his pride too.