Dad Fell Again

10 o’clock at night.  I was upstairs at the back of the house with the door closed almost asleep.  Dad, 160 pounds, was downstairs in the front of the house when I heard a big thud.  Rushing down, I found Dad on the floor.  It didn’t take us a long time to get him in the bed.  We actually had a couple of laughs, well gaffaws, while doing it.

But tonight when Rose was supposed to come over, he didn’t want to go out.  He doesn’t trust his legs. He has also had some of his spells, but I hated that now he was wanting to keep himself at home.

I joked about how I didn’t want him sitting around all the time.  It was an opportunity to disspell his concern that I didn’t want him out.  But he seemed so depressed and wasn’t at all interested when Queen and I were talking about how he could exercise his legs.

But later I saw him doing some leg lifts and then he asked how much a stationary bike would cost.  God bless him.

Some Cheer

A year or so ago, sitting in the Newark airport I saw a sign about Nola Ochs, a 95 year old woman who had just earned her college degree.  Well, I had to do a lens about her, the link is above, and also found more wonderful really old people who were still doing amazing things.  There was a 109 year old blogger!  100 year old who were sky diving (no thank you).

And I just found this picture with an article about a 102 year old Harley ‘biker chick’.

Ya, Dad isn’t going to make this list, and maybe not your parent.  But we can do it!  (Note to do the Pilattes machine again tomorrow!)

What to Do?

Rose came over tonight for a second visit this week.  She took Dad out to get groceries and presumably dinner.  They got back awfully early, without dinner.  When I asked Rose she commented, “He fell but he doesn’t want you to know.”  Why on earth not, I feel so bad.

Rose said that he thinks ‘we’ don’t want him going out.  That wasn’t me, it was the doctor.  When he comes in, I drop hints all over the place that I really like to see him go out.  Go out more….

Its so sad that he thinks I want to keep him in.  What would you do?  How would you get the message across.

25 Item To-Do List EVERYONE Should Be Doing

I found this while Stumbling.  Great list!

25 Item To-Do List EVERYONE Should Be Doing

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Are You An Optimist or a Pessimist?

When I was a kid I read an essay that said that pessimists are the lucky people.  The theory was that most things are disappointing which gave away the author.  He went on to say that optimists are continually disappointed.  If the plane lands a half an hour late, the optimist is disappointed.  If it lands safely, the pessimist is delighted.  Since it is late much more often than it doesn’t land, the pessimist is set up for a lot of happy times.

However, I tend towards optimism.  That is not to say that I don’t have the normal amount of anxiety and fear, or days of just wondering how I am going to do it: but I am an optimist.

I have feared that we wouldn’t get the right help for Dad, but I really knew that we would.  I worry about money, but know we will find it.

Optimism has worked for me.  Yesterday, I had a great day planned.  My appointments were lined up perfectly, five of them and I would be able to be home early.  Yea!  Then after #3 I couldn’t get my car out of park.  This had happened a few times, but I messed with it and I went.  Not this time.  I had to call a tow truck, glad that I had renewed by AAA.  He got it started so that I could drive to my mechanic, it took an hour and $40.  So what’s to be optimistic about?  Well, it didn’t happen when I was in the middle of no where.  The two missed appointments could be resceduled. The truck came quick and while I was waiting to fix it, I went to Third Place for lunch and met someoneI hadn’t seen in months.

There!  I was right.  Now, I could have looked at this from a pessimisitc perpectic.  Would I have been better off?

What do you think?  Is it possible to become more optimisstic, assuming you want that.

Me?  I think that it helps me with the task at hand.  Even if I’m wrong.

Every One Needs a Rose

I knew Rose from several different places in Raleigh.  She kept popping up.  I guess we were meant to be together.  She has some amazing talents, one of which is working with human energy.  She was taking a course in health issues and I volunteered Dad as a guinea pig.  He was skeptical, but liked Rose. One day he came in and showed me how much higher he could lift his foot.

But the real thing happening was that they started to talk and talk and talk.  Rose and Dad truly love each other.  She says that if she were 30 years older he might get her to switch from being a Lesbian!  The fact that she is makes it easier for him to have this friendship/romance.  He is able to have the good stuff, the love, the flirting ,without any worry that he was stepping out on Mom.

Rose comes once a week, on Wednesday at least.  Its date night and they usually go out, unless Rose works late or Dad doesn’t feel good.  They go out for beers, they get pedicures together.  Rose talks about her problems with her love life and Dad counsels and gives advice.  He used to think that homosexuality was bad, but know he is an expert.  Don’t tell me you can’t teach an old dog new tricks!

Everyone should have a Rose.  Heck, I wish I had one.

“Maybe Now You Will Call Me Fritz”

Visiting Nurses Association, the early years

Tara, Dad’s nurse,  was sent to Dad by his Doctor’s Making House Calls doc.

She was a God send.  Dad, didn’t think it was necessary 21 months ago, but went along.  He was sick then so at first she came daily, then three times, then two and one a week.  She takes his vitals, fills his pills boxes and then calls in meds and reports to the doctor.

That’s on the surface.  She has become a friend and a highlight of Dad’s week.  She has said that she loves him almost as much as her own grandpa.  The tears she shed on her last day here shows that that is true.

Dad has always encouraged her to call him Fritz, but she has explained why she can’t call him anything but Mr Arrowsmith.  It actually has more to do with her having been raised in Alabama.

The third to last time, Queen, the certified aid we hired to come three times a day, five days a week, had just given him a plate of homemade food, and watching him eat with such zest made Tara cry.  Then Dad and I got teary. Queen got teary.  Dad broke the tear fest by saying, “Maybe now you will call me Fritz”.  We all laughed, even though Dad was serious.  She should call him Fritz.

We had it down.  Tara would leave me messages about what meds to pick up, I would get them.  I would tell her about concerns, although I didn’t have to do that much, because she was really on top of it.  In fact, Dad would tell her things about his condition that he didn’t tell me.

I was, of course, ambivalent about that.  In the first place he wouldn’t have told me even if she wasn’t in the picture.  But it was nice to have someone else dealing with this.  I also felt left out, a little jealous of her relationship with them.  Human beings are nothing if not complex.

When the medical team decided that he needed to be in assisted living, no, to be fair, thought Dad wanted that, suddenly Tara seemed threatening to me.  She wasn’t, she was advocating for him.  He didn’t want to be a burden to me AND he couldn’t think of other possibilities.   I felt threatened, there was some sibling rivalry to make it even more complex.   It was getting messy.

But Tara managed to shake me out of the daze that I had been in when I didn’t want to see that he was getting more frail and more open to help.  It took a few weeks, some hard feelings probably all on my part.  But my complacency was shaken and my mind got to working.  I thought of all the ways he could stay home, Tara got that moving and here we are with a great nurse who comes in 3 times a day and some new equipment.  BTW, it turns out that Dad asked for the hospital bed before he decided he didn’t like it.  We are still working on that one.

But I was right about one thing.  He would be miserable in Assisted Living and only wanted to be there because he thought it would be better for me.  Dad doesn’t like old people.

Oh, and Tara, please call him Fritz now.

Times Have Changed

Cutting Dad’s Meat

Its been a really long time since I cut anyone’s meat.  I couldn’t have imagined doing it for my Dad, ever.  I would have thought that it was demeaning.  But he doesn’t seem too proud about it.  His hands aren’t steady enough to hold a knife and fork and he needs it cut, its just that simple.

And its a very tender thing to do, pun not intended.  It doesn’t take much time, I don’t know how well I do it, but its something simple that I can do for him.  Just nice moments.

The Bed Is Gone, Dad 1 Health Establishment 0

Well, Dad didn’t ask for the bed, it just arrived, but I wasn’t going to get into it.

He wasn’t comfortable.  I actually thought that sleeping on his back with his knees raised would help his back.  But Dad is a side sleeper.  It comes, I guess from all those years spooning with Mom.

Anyway, I taught him how to lay there, but when he woke up in the night to go to the bathroom, he coudn’t manuver the bed to flat so he could get out.

I didn’t have a problem with the bed, but I am especially proud that he handled it himself.  He also canceled the chair, but may go check one out that is closer.

I thought the bed could have done him some good, but I didn’t like the idea of it in the house.  AND I am very proud that he took charge and handled it himself.  The brat in me kind of likes thumming at the nurse, although she is really good and cares about him.  I am feeling vindicated that I do know him better than she does.

The Equipment Arrives

Thursday night and suddenly Dad has a hospital bed in his room.  Tara, his nurse was here and Dad smiled when he described how she took down his old bed.  She has been talking for a while about how he needed one.  Medicare paid for a lot of it, but a couple of hundred came from him.  His insurance won’t pay.

My sudden job is to help him learn to live with it.  And to deal with my feelings.  I want Dad to make his own decisions, I get upset with people who talk to me in front of him, as if it weren’t about him.  Yet, I am bothered that this happened without my knowledge.  I am not going to say anything, just help him.

Now, Dad sleeps on his back, not really possible in a hospital bed.  However, I know that sleeping with bent knees will help his back AND he easily sleeps in a chair.  So I try to convince him to crank up the back and the legs and pretend that he is in a chair.

The first night was ok, he had a good night sleep.  But this morning he is ’sick’.  He can’t explain why.  I think it has to do with the fact that he didn’t sleep last night.  On top of that, he couldn’t get out of bed when he had to go to the bathroom.  He just wants to call them to get rid of the bed and if they won’t take it he will cancel the lift chair.

That is how he is handling the changes.  Get rid of them.

I am trying to help him talk about it.  30 years as a therapist, I am pretty good at it, and I use all my skills.

I have mixed feelings.  I am not sure why this happened so suddenly, although I am sure Tara doesn’t think it is sudden.  I asked Dad to make sure that he knew the bed was coming.  The answer isn’t really clear.  I know she wants what is she thinks is best for him, but she has an agenda.

I am going to have to step in and deal with Tara and why things are happening so fast.  Why is she dealing with an equipment company in Knightdale when there is one a mile from here where he could go in and try these things out before they are delivered?

I want to bury my head and not deal with any of it.  I don’t want to be responsible for these things.  But I am.