Dad has been hallucinating quite colourfully while he's been in hospital. He said the following to Greg:

'Hah! I thought that elephant was real for a minute.'

'What are those buses doing in here?'

Last night he was able to drink from a cup and hold his own sandwich. The previous day he had needed a straw, but even that had been troublesome for him, and he had had to have his food held for him.

The shaking of his hands has apparently settled down significantly since the previous day.

He was able to remember his name and birthday when the senior doctor spoke to him yesterday evening.

Greg says that when he first saw dad in hospital, he looked so bad he thought he was going to die. I was also shocked at my first sight of dad, but this was after he had already got a lot better. The talk of resuscitation seemed very premature once dad had woken up and was talking, albeit poorly.

No answer from the psychogeriatrician to my fax of yesterday. I sense a closing of medical ranks against us. It is not pleasant, and perhaps unfounded, but I feel alerted to the possibility.