"How is your father?"

I called my dad yesterday (Mother's Day). I can't talk to my mom anymore since she's in a nursing home, and so I called my dad instead.

As it turns out, he wasn't home when I called. That's because he was with two of my brothers and sisters-in-law, all of whom were visiting my mom, so that was nice to know. Dad called me back this morning and we caught up.

He told me that Mom hadn't seen one of my sisters-in-law ("V") in quite some time. The moment V. walked in, Mom said – clear enough that even Dad could hear it (Dad is quite deaf) – "Hello. How is your father?"

Dad was ecstatic.

V. is from Russia, and her father had suffered a stroke a few years ago. V. had to travel all the way to Moscow and then on to Siberia to care for him in the immediate aftermath. Mom's mind was sharp enough to remember V's struggles, and to ask V. how her father was doing.

Dad confirms that Mom's brain, underneath the symptoms of her own stroke and serious bout of pneumonia over the New Year, is still chugging along bright and alert. We agreed it must be intensely frustrating that she can't always communicate her thoughts.

Still, Dad admitted that Mom is receiving not just excellent care in her nursing home, but far more socialization than she would have gotten at home, so he's come to terms with it. I'm grateful he only lives a couple miles away from her facility.

A really, really rough New Year's Eve

We are now two days into the New Year, and now I feel I can write about what our New Year's Eve was like. In a nutshell, it was very, very rough.

My mother (who, as you remember, is now in a nursing home) was hospitalized on Dec. 30 with pneumonia and a blood infection. It didn't sound good. Then on Dec. 31, the doctor (not her regular doctor, but the one on call over the holiday weekend) said she wasn't responding to treatments. He summoned the immediate family (my dad and all my brothers; I'm too far away) for a meeting on New Year's Day.

Doctors don't summon immediate family for no reason. We were braced for the worst. When I talked to my youngest brother (who lives geographically closest to my parents and has been a rock for them), he said he fully expected Mom to go into hospice. He's a big strong man, my brother, but he was crying as he told me this.

Since I couldn't physically be present at the meeting, my brother asked me to stay by the phone on New Year's Day in case my input was needed for whatever decisions were being made about my mother's care.

Needless to say we were a gloomy household on New Year's Eve. Younger Daughter (stationed in Europe) was traveling, and my brother urged me not to ruin her trip because she couldn't do anything anyway. Older Daughter was very upset about the news and buried herself in work, since she has a large wholesale order going out shortly.

On the evening of New Year's Eve, Don and I decided to call our pastor and explain the situation, and ask for prayers. This good man was – literally – in the middle of a prayer on the phone when Older Daughter came crashing into house from the shop, holding up a bloody and mangled finger. While working on the router, a piece of wood snapped and her finger connected with the router blade. She was in terrible pain, covered in blood and sawdust.

We yelled to our pastor that we had to go, and immediately embarked on a hasty first-aid for Older Daughter. We bundled her into the car and Don drove her to the emergency room, a half-hour drive away.

After they left, I called our pastor back and explained what happened, noting grimly that this was a helluva way to end the year. He finished the prayer he had started earlier, and then – without asking – went to meet Don and Older Daughter at the emergency room. (Apparently he does this a lot with congregants. They know him there in the emergency room.)

Don and Older Daughter were back within a couple of hours. OD's finger is swathed in gauze, of course, but it will mend. The router had chewed off the tip, but the injury didn't reach the bone and she should recover full use after it heals. Heavens above, it could have been way worse.

So New Year's Day dawned, and Don went out to the shop to take over the production run of tankards for Older Daughter's wholesale order. I, meanwhile, stayed inside by the phone, waiting for word on my mom. I took down the Christmas tree and cleaned the house as a sort of occupational therapy. Older Daughter slept much of the day, exhausted.

It wasn't until evening that my brother called with surprising news: My mother had rallied!

This took, literally, all of us by surprise. The entire family was braced for the worst. My brother said Mom looked terrible, was mostly comatose, and hadn't eaten in days (she had a feeding tube). My dad had tried to wake her up several times to no avail.

My dad tried to wake her up one last time. She actually woke up, but was terribly groggy. But then, miraculously, she kind of blinked herself awake over the span of about five minutes and became much more alert. She was responsive and cognizant and talking (as best she could; her speech was badly impacted by the stroke). Her vitals stabilized. The doctor was just as surprised as the rest of us by her rapid improvement, and decided to belay any recommendations for hospice.

My brother said Dad went from the darkest gloom to incandescent happiness in the span of an hour.

Mom is still hospitalized and she is by no means out of danger, but the likelihood of her imminent departure seems to have passed.

Phew. It's been a roller-coaster of emotions over the last couple of days, let me tell you. 

On a more positive note, something interesting and even amusing happened to Older Daughter while being treated in the emergency room, which I'll explain later in another blog post.

In the meantime, prayers for my parents would be deeply appreciated.

Update on my parents

Several readers have asked for an update on my parents. So here's the update: There isn't much to report.

Seriously, that's a good thing ... I guess. My mom is doing well in the long-term care facility. My dad visits her twice a day and feeds her lunch and dinner. He often stays with her in the evening until visiting hours are over. He's actually making friends with others in the nursing home and enjoys the companionship, and just sharing time with Mom.

I'm beyond grateful Mom is getting the care she needs. Dad is adjusting to being alone in the house, and has a "smart watch"-type gizmo that can alert help if, say, he slips in the bathroom or something. My youngest brother, who lives about an hour away, keeps in daily contact with him. (Literally. My dad calls my brother every morning when he wakes up, just to report he's fine. It's something they both agreed to do on a daily basis. My brother is a saint.)

Two of my brothers and sisters-in-law are taking my dad to Las Vegas in July for his 90th birthday. Frankly that sounds like the vacation from hell to me, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't actually have to drive in that blasted city. At any rate, Dad admits it's been a long time since he's been able to travel anywhere, and is looking forward to the trip.

I thank everyone for their concern and ongoing prayers for my parents in this new phase of their lives.

One last trip to the ocean

I had the opportunity to make one last trip to the ocean. Returning from feeding my mother lunch one afternoon, I noted the marine layer (which usually socks in the coast around here) was absent today. My dad urged me to go to the beach to take the opportunity to see it in sunshine. So I did.

At first I thought I would walk along a pathway in a nearby estuary park, which has some interpretive signage along the way. It was here I was able to learn the identity of the bright yellow flowers blooming along the road I noticed last time: Giant coreopsis.

Apparently these flowers are quite rare, although they seemed abundant in the area, easily noticeable since they were in bloom.

At a distance, some double-crested cormorants rested on a log.

However, my estuary walk was curtailed almost immediately with a chain-link fence across the path and a notice of closure. No explanation was given, but it might have been to protect nesting snowy plovers. So I returned to the car (after noticing this California ground squirrel in the parking lot) and went to the beach.

The view was vastly improved in the sparkling sunshine.

I strolled alone the shoreline, beachcombing. One of the first things I noticed was the abundance of velella (also called "By-the-Wind Sailors") washed up on the shore. Oddly, I saw none of these just a few days before. Now they were everywhere. Go figure.

A few treasures:

Top and bottom:

A stately seagull.

Another long-billed curlew. That beak is really something else.

While it was fairly common to see some dead barnacles on a sand dollar...

...this time I found some living barnacles.

Washed ashore as they were, these barnacles will die fairly quickly. So I yeeted the sand dollar and its companions as far out into the water as I could, fully aware it wasn't nearly far enough and they would certainly be washed ashore again in short order.

I took one last look at the beach, then headed back up the path to the parking lot.

I was sitting on a bench, rubbing the sand off my feet to put my shoes and socks back on, when I noticed a man standing on a sandy knoll, gazing at the water.

Then he flung his arms up and over his head, slowly, several times. I don't know if he was meditating, praying, having an exultant moment, or what, but it was kinda neat to see. Moments after taking these photos, the man climbed down from the knoll and went on his way.

And that was my trip to the ocean.

Visiting the ocean

No trip to see my parents would be complete without a visit to the ocean as well. As you can imagine, living as far inland as we do, seeing the ocean is a novelty.

So on Sunday afternoon, I went for a drive. The day was sunny and bright, but as I approached the coast, the marine layer (the almost-perpetual layer of coastal fog) became visible on the horizon.

This area is heavily agricultural. I passed fields of broccoli...

...peas...

...and strawberries, among much else.

Approaching the coast, the road was hewn through sandstone (or what I presume was sandstone).

In some areas, the road cuts were deeply channeled, looking like miniature badlands.

But some coastal flowers were blooming...

First glimpse of the ocean.

Naturally, there were lots of ice plants...

...and a few yellow sand verbena.

I climbed down the access path to the beach and strolled along the shoreline.

This part of the coast has relatively few shells, but it seemed every rock was collectible. I have to remember I'm flying home, not driving, so I can't pack five pounds of rocks in my suitcase.

This rock looked like a mini Oreo cookie. Okay, I should probably have pocketed this one (but, regrettably, didn't).

I found a piece of sea glass in a pale, sea-foam green. This one I did keep.

Sand crab carcasses were everywhere.

I found a sand dollar in almost perfect condition.

Later, I found a purple sand dollar, which probably means it had more recently died.

Close-ups of the papillate spines on the ventral and dorsal surfaces.

Color difference between a newly dead sand dollar and an older one.

Fragment of a crab shell, no idea what kind.

Barnacle attached to a sand dollar.

Snowy plovers were everywhere. Portions of this beach are often cordoned off to protect their nesting grounds.

I think this is a western sandpiper (correct me if I'm wrong).

The long-billed curlews were especially fascinating to watch.

Found a sand crab!

You can see it at the bird's feet.

Yum.

The higher portions of the beach were strewn with the fragile paper-thin carcasses of velella (also called "By-the-Wind Sailors"). I didn't see any fresh ones, so I'm guessing they tend to wash ashore later in the summer.

Walking back to the beach-access path, I saw dozens of sand pipers clustered together in an area of only a few square yards. Must have been an exceptionally rich haul of goodies below the sand.

And that was my visit to the ocean.