Perhaps I Could Write a Book

Poor Dad. Up to his crazy tricks again. He's frail. Not as fragile as he was this time last year, thankfully, but still, not exactly healthy.

His doctor says he's physically great, but some TIAs have left him not mentally the best. Evidently, one or more of these TIAs have affected his frontal lobe, where our inhibitors are located. His anger center has already been affected, and now this. Asking every woman he meets if she'd go out with him, or let him move in with her. He is so harmless, but people who don't know him don't know that. The man can barely walk; how's he going to...(you fill in the blank, you lecher you).

There are so many sad things in his life, I think it would be great for him to actually meet someone who could care for him and be there for him for companionship, which is what he appears to really want. Watching TV with someone else, to share the sad scenes, the happy scenes, the nostalgic ones, et al, would give him a lot of happiness if not contentedness. Is that a word?

But here is today's story: We (BD1, BD2 and I) went to pick DOD up at 11:00 this morning to go get his new glasses (they are so darn cute!) and have lunch. The caregivers had seriously dropped the ball, giving him a "half-shower" as he called it, and getting him dressed in pants that were, well, they needed cleaning. He (due to TIAs) needs help tying his shoes. (Yes, I'm going to try to find some for him that don't need tying, but he likes his dress shoes.)

So, there I am, with my 2 BDs, re-dressing my father and tying his shoes for him. It wouldn't have been so awkward except for the part where we needed to change his pants.

This has all taken about 1-1/2 hours, and now my girls and I are starving. We had thought we'd be at lunch by this time, but didn't know how much needed to be done at Dad's. So, we went to lunch first.

2 hours later, we got through at the restaurant, and went to get his glasses. My daughters, I must say, were very well behaved for having to wait nearly an hour for Poppy to finish his lunch. BD2 has a cold, which takes away a little bit of her personal sunshine, and BD1, well, she's kind of grumpy anyways sometimes. So we were blessed with well-behaved girls.

Got the glasses (boy does he look good with them and his Seaman's cap), stopped by my house to get his package, (Thank you so much, Mrs. Second Daughter), and then took him to his home. Now it was 3:45, and very much time to let the dog out, try to work on the never-ending play room project and get some rest from lifting that wheel chair in and out of the car 5 times.

We got home; I tried to convince BD2 to lay down with me, and of course I fell asleep but she did not. BD1 came in to tell me about a phone call from Poppy's residence saying he wanted to go across the street to the Pharmacy. I asked if they were still on the phone, and she said no, so I figured it was just informational.

Well, at 6:00 pm, which is when I began to think about what to make for dinner, the phone rang. It was the Residence attendant, telling me that my father had tried to walk across the street with only his cane (not his walker, not his wheelchair, but his cane!), and was insisting he could do it, even though he had already nearly fallen a few times.

This is not all, oh no, this is not all. Evidently he "hijacked" the Residence's elevator, riding up and down with anyone who used it, refusing to get out of the elevator until he was given "permission" to walk across the street. The attendant didn't know what to do, and acted as if I would. I thought that was why she got the big bucks we are paying for him to be there. But again, as usual, I digress.

We convinced him to talk with me on the phone, and he said he'd missed dinner and wanted to go across the street for some food (a Taco Bell). I scolded him as if I was his mother, saying it would have been alright if he'd used his walker or wheelchair, but to try to use his cane when he can't stand up on his own was ridiculous. He was angry, but at least obliged me and said he'd go to his room when I said I'd bring him some dinner.

DH came home just in time for me to fly out, get dinner for Dad, go get cash, buy some junky fast food dinner for DH and BD1, come home and try to eat something. I finally got home at 8:00 so that my family could eat, and BD2 had already gone to sleep so missed dinner entirely.

Poor Poppy. I feel terrible for him, but he does provide entertainment!