When I posted last I fully expected this to be a different post.  The weekend past was grueling with no food intake, completely bed bound, confused and clearly dying.  I spent hours watching, waiting and planning.  On Sunday evening I communicated with our Priest.  He was willing to come then but I preferred that we wait until morning.  During the night, the rally prevailed.  Though weak and aphasic, Bruce rose from the bed to his wheelchair.  I slept soundly thru this as it wasn't med time.  My Husband, however, did not.  He heard noise in the kitchen and rose to find my Brother, armed with a kitchen knife, attacking a plate of saran wrapped Christmas cookies.  Though confused, his intentions were clear. My husband successfully disarmed him, prepared him a plate of cookies and escorted him back to bed.
When our Priest arrived Monday morning, expecting to deliver last rites, my Brother was pirouetting in his wheelchair in the living room.  They spent time together, discussed literary collaborations and prayed.
So the rally I looked for, came.  It appeared in the form of one of his original goals:  food.
It didn't last but it was tremendously entertaining and I had a peek again at my strange and wonderful Brother.
Pain is now the issue.  He does get up in his wheelchair briefly several times a day.  Not really for food or drink now but for the occasional cigarette.  Hospice nurses felt that as his metabolic needs decreased, so did his need for meds and we attempted a 6 hour regimen.   That turns out not to be the case.  Nights are long and painful and we spend them trying to catch up.  I am giving him morphine now, when he asks.  Time increments really don't matter.  He sips water or juice boxes but really still has no measurable intake.  He wanted to go to the bathroom yesterday and we wheeled him in at which point he promptly fell in the toilet. He weighs 114 lbs.
I'll not speculate, even in my mind, about the next post.  I will certainly commit to keeping his readers informed.