"I don't want to eat."
He's just really not into it. I mean, the dinner isn't that bad. The mashed potatoes with gravy are just staring at him, waiting patiently for him to taste some. But, they're not that appealing for him.
"Maybe you can have some, I mean, you know you need to have something. You haven't had any this breakfast. You need to get some strength back."
Persevere. Try. Persuade. All the powers I need to summon. Is it for me, so that I can satisfy myself that I did my part? Or is it really, where it could've been on the first place, for him because he's just getting weak as time goes.
"Look, I don't want to have any. Thank you."
"Okay, maybe we'll leave your dinner there at your table, and then I could check on your medications so that you can have them."
Agreeing to disagree? No. Just trying out some tactics, trying to put a positive on top of a negative. Trying to outwit, outplay, outstrategize, in order for me to help him, (and probably myself as well).
"Look, it won't do any good. I have Cancer."
"....." I just didn't know what to pull out of my head with that. It was like a strong uppercut to my jaw that rattled me for a split-second.
It was as swift as a knife. Quick, yet gentle. Sudden, yet I felt it right through inside. I knew what he had. I knew that he knew of it not too long ago. But the report has gotten to him that it's not getting any better. And it may only be a short time for him.
"...I'm 90..I'm okay."
I felt I've lost my strength, words were not to be found for a while. It was the longest 1 or 2 seconds of the day. I came nearer to him, tapped his hand, and said softly: "I'm sorry."
He half-smiled. It was more of a tired smile perhaps. I might be bugging him and he may choose to rest for more, but he also knew I wasn't quitting too easily.
"Okay" I started with a renewed energy enough to go for the last time "So, would you fancy any ice cream instead? We've got vanilla, which is really nice. I could two for you!"
And finally, a sigh of relief from him, "Yes, I would like that please."
And so I dashed back to the kitchen, and returned with a Vanilla ice cream on both hands. Coupled with some hope, and sprinkled with prayers.
He happily received the ice cream, and I was glad he liked Vanilla as promised. And I will see him again.
One ice cream at a time.
He's just really not into it. I mean, the dinner isn't that bad. The mashed potatoes with gravy are just staring at him, waiting patiently for him to taste some. But, they're not that appealing for him.
"Maybe you can have some, I mean, you know you need to have something. You haven't had any this breakfast. You need to get some strength back."
Persevere. Try. Persuade. All the powers I need to summon. Is it for me, so that I can satisfy myself that I did my part? Or is it really, where it could've been on the first place, for him because he's just getting weak as time goes.
"Look, I don't want to have any. Thank you."
"Okay, maybe we'll leave your dinner there at your table, and then I could check on your medications so that you can have them."
Agreeing to disagree? No. Just trying out some tactics, trying to put a positive on top of a negative. Trying to outwit, outplay, outstrategize, in order for me to help him, (and probably myself as well).
"Look, it won't do any good. I have Cancer."
"....." I just didn't know what to pull out of my head with that. It was like a strong uppercut to my jaw that rattled me for a split-second.
It was as swift as a knife. Quick, yet gentle. Sudden, yet I felt it right through inside. I knew what he had. I knew that he knew of it not too long ago. But the report has gotten to him that it's not getting any better. And it may only be a short time for him.
"...I'm 90..I'm okay."
I felt I've lost my strength, words were not to be found for a while. It was the longest 1 or 2 seconds of the day. I came nearer to him, tapped his hand, and said softly: "I'm sorry."
He half-smiled. It was more of a tired smile perhaps. I might be bugging him and he may choose to rest for more, but he also knew I wasn't quitting too easily.
"Okay" I started with a renewed energy enough to go for the last time "So, would you fancy any ice cream instead? We've got vanilla, which is really nice. I could two for you!"
And finally, a sigh of relief from him, "Yes, I would like that please."
And so I dashed back to the kitchen, and returned with a Vanilla ice cream on both hands. Coupled with some hope, and sprinkled with prayers.
He happily received the ice cream, and I was glad he liked Vanilla as promised. And I will see him again.
One ice cream at a time.
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