Monday Sep. 7th Day Watch

Got here at 7:00, and realised I forgot to shave. Benny arrived a bit later on his way to work. Dad seems a bit better actually. That's not saying much, still only few words faintly uttered, but eyes open more frequently, and he's more aware of his surroundings, I think. I fetched him his breakfast, added some sugar to his semolina porridge, and spoon-fed him slowly. He managed some 3/4 of the bowl. Mum would have persisted to the last spoonful. I then chopped finely his hard-boiled egg and mixed it with some light cream cheese (the famous 5% fromage frais like Israeli delicacy) to the consistency of egg mayonnaise. He had half of that and couldn't eat any more. I then flirted with nurse (oops, done it again. Head Nurse) Tova and at my request she and two other nurses got dad out of bed, into a treatment chair, and off he rolled to have his shower. His backside now has several skin sores, and those were treated and dressed before a fresh nappy was applied. He is to lie on his side as much as possible for the foreseeable future. As for nu.. Head Nurse Tova, I have now decided that her eyebrows, as I suspected are tattooed on, but there's more. Her lip-liner is also a tattoo, and I will surreptitiously scrutinise her eyeliner next time. Benny made the error of telling her she was "just like our cousin Dahlia" to which she retorted "There's only one of me. I'm unique, like nobody else". That shut him up. At least I compared her to a Hollywood legend Joan Crawford. And Benny is supposed to be the ladies man between us. Puh-leez!
Doctors visit: "House" type is rather short with me. I keep chipping away at the stone. Dad's biopsy (from last Sunday week) still inconclusive, but they believe he has a tumor, not on the lymphatics but the bladder. Still no idea when the urologist (if I got the term right) will grace us with his/her presence. House resolves to give dad some happy pills, modest dosage.
Lunch is not a success. Now he's on his side it's even harder to feed him. I juggle a bowl of soup, a spoon, and apparently a third hand to prop his head up or soup just dribble down the corner of his mouth.
It's a full room again. Next to dad we now have Boris Yeltsin. Or his dead ringer. He demands to only see Russian speaking staff, and is bemused to find that many of the Arab nurses have a fair command of basic bedside Russian!
Mr. Haj gets a visit, at last, from his son, daughter in-law and little grandson. A brief one, I felt.
Adi brought K along, and stays a while. We talk to the doctors again (no news), and finally I leave, blowing a kiss (what's up with that?) to the phenomena that is Tova!