The following blog is written by WEWS Managing Editor Jim Scott sharing his experiences about his father who is dying of cancer.

Jim will provide daily updates.

You may e-mail him your comments.

WELCOME TO HOSPICE CARE

Mom and I had a conference call with the Rehabilitation care center today. All of the caregivers {physical therapist – speech therapist – living counselor} were on it with us. Pop is slipping away and pretty much unable to do anything. His care is now considered hospice, and thank goodness he'll remain at this facility. They were all so compassionate and it seems that they have taken a liking to my dad. I’m not surprised about that.

I think I told you way back that you’d love him too once you got to know him. He's just that kind of guy; unassuming, always personable and even in his weakened state he’d find a way to make you love him. Cancer couldn’t take away his spirit and for that we, his family are all greatful.

I also found today that inpatient hospice care begins now {thank goodness at the same facility} and it's a comfort to know he’s being taken care of so well.

Perhaps the most difficult part of last weekend was Mom and I picking out a suit for burial. I didn't want to do this, but when she told me how she and Pop prepared for things like this I had to go through with it.

I was amazed, but not totally surprised to learn that Pop had already paid for his and Mom's burial plots, vaults and the fee for opening and closing. My gosh what planning! He always told me that when he and/or Momma passed on he didn’t want me or my family to have to worry about paying for anything. How unselfish that was. That was Pop though, always thinking ahead.

My wife and I plan to travel to Chicago for the funeral of her aunt, but I have a feeling the situation with my Dad is going to change. If he holds on we’ll pay our respects there and get right back to his bedside. He’d want me to support my wife's family. No he'd insist that I do it. If things change you know where I'll be.

Thanks for listening,
Jim