Feeding Dad dominates every day. It is the single most time-consuming activity in my life, except sleep–well, may be even including sleep. His hospitalizations have caused me to focus on preventing aspiration pneumonia to the extent I can. So far, we’ve been doing pretty well.
Sometimes I worry that I am being overly cautious–he enjoys eating, especially desserts, and I hate depriving him of the different textures he knows and loves. But, even so, I puree just about everything and always use a thickening agent for liquids.
I recall an incident from several months ago. I was giving him a drink of plain tea from a glass or a spoon–I don’t remember which. He got a bit strangled by an attempted swallow, and though he never seemed in danger, it was clear he was scared by it (as was I) and felt rather serious discomfort–coughing and trying to talk but gurgling–it was painful to watch and try to comfort him as he attempted to clear his throat and right himself. After some time, he did.
Once all that had passed, I gave him several minutes of feeling normal and calm, then offered him another sip.
“Daddy,” he said,”I can’t do that anymore.”
Nothing could have been more clear.