Sponge Bob Craig Pants

(written last night)

Craig's energy has dipped precipitously these last days. Remarkably, he mustered the energy to take a shower today, but, yesterday, he didn't have the strength to move his tired legs over the tub ledge. Fret not. Jill and I are pros at bathroom sponge baths dating back to our time with mom, when showering was no longer feasible or necessary. Why bother with showering when you can get a sponge bath, I say. Of course, we recognized Mom's important grieving process involved in losing the independence to bathe herself, but also positively reframed it by making it a "hos-spa" day (hospice spa) -- giving her one hell of an exfoliating, shampooing, and moisturizing experience. (I feel it necessary to add the extra hospice component...what spa really bathes their clients, except for those that start with b and end with rothel? ;) ).

Jill and I set up a similar hos-spa shop for Craig, gathering our necessary buckets, washcloths, soap, shampoo, clean clothes, and PLENTY of towels to catch the "rain" from the sponge bath. We started just as we did with mom by squeezing soaked washcloths over his head. The water dripped over his head and down his oxygen line, which he now must wear at all times lest he become breathless and panicked. I washed his hair as Jill washed his back; our A-game couldn't have been more synchronized, efficient or peaceful. ;) Craigery's only task was to sit there and look pretty in his boxers....and perhaps wipe the dripping water from his eyes. It was a wonderfully tender and loving moment to share with him at this very vulnerable stage of his life. I feel honored he let us in. ~E