He fell again today.  I heard him call me from outside but assumed he wanted help with something minor.  Because he doesn't think clearly and doesn't make connections like he used to, his outlook is much more immediate, rather like a child.   I might be up to my elbows in making dinner and he suddenly needs me to find his shoes or dig out a belt or help him search for that yellow handled pair of pliers he lost months ago.  Today I was carting in a box of vegetables, heard him call and thought, nyet!  He can wait a moment.  So he did.  On the concrete.  Found him when I took the empty box outside. 

He tripped rather than fainted.  It is impossible for him to stay mindful enough to watch where he puts his feet.  I try and use startling images to help him remember to step wide and parallel.  Tell him he's got an echidna between his legs (today I upped it to a porcupine), but he can't stay present for more than 2 steps before he's heel and toeing again.  It's a wonder he doesn't fall over more often.

Almost couldn't get him to his feet.  Told him I'd have to ring our neighbour as I couldn't dead lift him.  Richard can't help much.  His body just doesn't respond like it used to.  The Parkinsons freezes it in whatever position he happens to be in.  Ask him to move his feet beneath him so we can try and get his weight centered.  He doesn't budge.  His joints don't flex either. 

Finally stood him up and except for a laceration on his finger he's okay.  But it's only a matter of time.

Today I filled in the form to buy a gravesite at Laidley Cemetary.  But am consulting the kids.  One site is fairly close to his parents and first born son but it is lawn, no monument allowed.  The second site is much farther away but can have a headstone.  I think they would like a headstone but need to ask them.

And ask Richard too (and foremost!) but am finding it difficult to broach the subject.  Don't want him to think I want him gone or that I am gleefully planning for his demise. Nor do I want him to think he is dying and things are worse than they are.  That's a self fulfilling prophecy. Still, it is one of those disconcerting things which must be done. 

Bugger.