There's a fairly large farmer's market on the corner near the hospital. I've visited many times, pre- or post-visit. I don't always buy something, but my favorite booth is one occupied by a Korean family selling some of the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen, especially the peonies. You just don't see peonies everday, and since their blooming period is so short I feel obligated to pay homage. Which is to say, I bury my face in them whenever I walk by- - -no one seems to mind. I can't resist. They pull at me with their moth-wing fluffiness, their light, yet heady scent of summer to come.
The other day I was doing my usual sniff and smile routine when the flower lady noticed the big plastic Carolinas Medical Center cup in my hand. "You sick? I hope not, right?" she asked--half sympathetic, half cautionary. "No," I assured her. "Just visiting my dad today." With that, she plucked one of the biggest blooms from her $10 bundles and thrust it at me: "You take! For your mama, OK?"
"No, I couldn't--it's actually my dad. . .you see, my mom is um," (meanwhile the lady looks puzzled and slightly wounded, a look I remember my grandmother giving me if I refused a fourth piece of fried chicken). "OH, THANK YOU!!" I finally blurted, grasping the stem. "Your flowers are so special," I told her.
"Special like mama, right?" she said.
"Yes, exactly." I replied. And this peony sure is.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Feelin' Thrifty
Today I had to go to a totally bogus diversity training seminar. Wait, did I say that? What I meant, clearly, was that while I am grateful (SO grateful) to have my wonderful job, I didn't much appreciate having to drive across town to attend an all-day training on something that frankly, is simple common sense to most working adults these days. At least in my business, which is human services. I mean, if you're remotely Archie Bunker material then a life of civil servitude isn't exactly your can of suds, right?
Anyway.
Yesterday I was griping about how I was going to have to drive even farther than usual to visit my dad in the hospital after this seminar let out when my co-worker told me there's a cool bread bakery outlet near the training site. She said when she had to go for her training she went over there at lunch and got a lot of stuff to stock the freezer for when summer begins and her kids begin to eat the cabinets, walls and general framework of her lovely home. I sensed that Co-worker was trying to distract me from my griping,which initially peeved me because I was really on a roll, but hey--it worked! I latched onto this idea and checked it out.
Here's my haul: 2 huge bags of mini bagels, one plain and one cinnamon.
2 boxes knock-off goldfish crackers (I think they're whales)
1 loaf raisin bread
1 angel food bar cake (for all the strawberries we have lately)
2 loaves whole grain bread
1 box whole grain English muffins
My total: $11.72. Not bad for all the breakfasts, pizza bagels, desserts, snacks and endless sandwiches that will spring forth from this bounty.
Oh, and the hospital visit? Today = teensy bit better.
Anyway.
Yesterday I was griping about how I was going to have to drive even farther than usual to visit my dad in the hospital after this seminar let out when my co-worker told me there's a cool bread bakery outlet near the training site. She said when she had to go for her training she went over there at lunch and got a lot of stuff to stock the freezer for when summer begins and her kids begin to eat the cabinets, walls and general framework of her lovely home. I sensed that Co-worker was trying to distract me from my griping,which initially peeved me because I was really on a roll, but hey--it worked! I latched onto this idea and checked it out.
Here's my haul: 2 huge bags of mini bagels, one plain and one cinnamon.
2 boxes knock-off goldfish crackers (I think they're whales)
1 loaf raisin bread
1 angel food bar cake (for all the strawberries we have lately)
2 loaves whole grain bread
1 box whole grain English muffins
My total: $11.72. Not bad for all the breakfasts, pizza bagels, desserts, snacks and endless sandwiches that will spring forth from this bounty.
Oh, and the hospital visit? Today = teensy bit better.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Abuse Of Blog As Therapy. . .
In an effort, yet again, to record an all-time low so that I can look back next year when things will be undoubtably BETTER:
My dad is in the hospital. The assisted-living staff and I decided to admit him a few days ago so they can get his meds regulated and hopefully find a sedative that works best for him. His agitation grows worse in the evenings, which is typical of folks with Alzheimer's, so his Dr. is working to find something that will help my dad, who is a quintessential "sundowner."
I pray every waking moment that I am doing the right thing for him. I never imagined that I would one day have the responsibility of making his choices, at least not before my 40th birthday. It's hard to concentrate on work, kids, and general everyday life when your mind is repeating the same, perpetual mantra: "Please, Lord. Please. . .please. . .please. . ."
I feel overwhelmed with this reponsibility. I wish he could come back to me for just an hour, or just a few minutes so we could really talk and he could tell me what would work best for him. What does one do when the one they used to turn to for advice is no longer able to give it?
And it is a huge, all-encompassing thing, this responsiblity. I have a responsibility to him, certainly, but also to his mother, my Granny, who's been gone five years now. Over a half-century ago she used to hold him in her arms and rock him and protect him. She kept him from toddling out too far in the fields, when everyone was outside working. She tried to keep him in the shade to protect his fair skin and was so proud when anyone admired his reddish-blond ringlets. Would she approve of the "care plan" that we've come up with? And what about my mother, who was often in and out of the hospital and hated it, knowing that my dad could care for her far better at home. Yes, there are many graves spinning in Beaufort County right now.
OK, enough with the dramatics. Now, goodbye forever! Just kidding.
I'm visiting Dad again tomorrow after work. Here's hoping for a significant improvement by then (here that, up there)? Hubs is taking the kiddos to Wendy's so I know they'll only miss me a little.
Other random notes:
Poison ivy rash update! Because I know you couldn't wait. I called my doc today and begged for more Prednisone because my prescription from last week ran out today and the vile creeping death will not die. It has crept over from my left side across my stomach, and the patch that started it all, the one on my left arm, looks like someone spilled battery acid on it. Yes, it's as awesome as you can imagine.
What's even worse is that my poor Livvi has it too. We even kept her home from school two days last week because the poor child looked like an escapee from the leper colony. But her doc upped her prescription when the rash persisted after a few days and it has almost completely cleared up, which is what I told MY doc when I so subly hinted for the same treatment. So, she had mercy on me and did just that. So now I'm so pumped full of 'roids that I could probably lift my mini van. And eat my house. But I DO NOT ITCH for the first time in a week which is a little bit blissful actually.
The State of Nate: Doing fine, had a great albeit wet field trip to Patterson's strawberry farm today and he brought home a sweet-smelling, ruby-red pint of 'em for us. Can't wait for breakfast. His kindergaren musical is Thursday and I'm putting together a Goodwill-supplied "sad clown" costume for him. It will probably be sad on many levels- - -wish me luck.
The State of Liv: Gobbling up everything in sight, including my leftover collard greens at dinner tonight. She's my Partner in Prednisone, and we're out to devour the world! After dinner she had so much energy I asked her to put it to use and pack her lunch for tomorrow. She did, and she also packed Nate's and mine too! I can't wait to try my Scooby Doo yogurt tube.
The State of Casa de Pellin: We've achieved a new layer of filth. The dust bunnies and the crumbs are taking over. Hubs says he'll channel the kid energy tomorrow, with a little help from a bribe trip to the dollar store. Whatever works.
My dad is in the hospital. The assisted-living staff and I decided to admit him a few days ago so they can get his meds regulated and hopefully find a sedative that works best for him. His agitation grows worse in the evenings, which is typical of folks with Alzheimer's, so his Dr. is working to find something that will help my dad, who is a quintessential "sundowner."
I pray every waking moment that I am doing the right thing for him. I never imagined that I would one day have the responsibility of making his choices, at least not before my 40th birthday. It's hard to concentrate on work, kids, and general everyday life when your mind is repeating the same, perpetual mantra: "Please, Lord. Please. . .please. . .please. . ."
I feel overwhelmed with this reponsibility. I wish he could come back to me for just an hour, or just a few minutes so we could really talk and he could tell me what would work best for him. What does one do when the one they used to turn to for advice is no longer able to give it?
And it is a huge, all-encompassing thing, this responsiblity. I have a responsibility to him, certainly, but also to his mother, my Granny, who's been gone five years now. Over a half-century ago she used to hold him in her arms and rock him and protect him. She kept him from toddling out too far in the fields, when everyone was outside working. She tried to keep him in the shade to protect his fair skin and was so proud when anyone admired his reddish-blond ringlets. Would she approve of the "care plan" that we've come up with? And what about my mother, who was often in and out of the hospital and hated it, knowing that my dad could care for her far better at home. Yes, there are many graves spinning in Beaufort County right now.
OK, enough with the dramatics. Now, goodbye forever! Just kidding.
I'm visiting Dad again tomorrow after work. Here's hoping for a significant improvement by then (here that, up there)? Hubs is taking the kiddos to Wendy's so I know they'll only miss me a little.
Other random notes:
Poison ivy rash update! Because I know you couldn't wait. I called my doc today and begged for more Prednisone because my prescription from last week ran out today and the vile creeping death will not die. It has crept over from my left side across my stomach, and the patch that started it all, the one on my left arm, looks like someone spilled battery acid on it. Yes, it's as awesome as you can imagine.
What's even worse is that my poor Livvi has it too. We even kept her home from school two days last week because the poor child looked like an escapee from the leper colony. But her doc upped her prescription when the rash persisted after a few days and it has almost completely cleared up, which is what I told MY doc when I so subly hinted for the same treatment. So, she had mercy on me and did just that. So now I'm so pumped full of 'roids that I could probably lift my mini van. And eat my house. But I DO NOT ITCH for the first time in a week which is a little bit blissful actually.
The State of Nate: Doing fine, had a great albeit wet field trip to Patterson's strawberry farm today and he brought home a sweet-smelling, ruby-red pint of 'em for us. Can't wait for breakfast. His kindergaren musical is Thursday and I'm putting together a Goodwill-supplied "sad clown" costume for him. It will probably be sad on many levels- - -wish me luck.
The State of Liv: Gobbling up everything in sight, including my leftover collard greens at dinner tonight. She's my Partner in Prednisone, and we're out to devour the world! After dinner she had so much energy I asked her to put it to use and pack her lunch for tomorrow. She did, and she also packed Nate's and mine too! I can't wait to try my Scooby Doo yogurt tube.
The State of Casa de Pellin: We've achieved a new layer of filth. The dust bunnies and the crumbs are taking over. Hubs says he'll channel the kid energy tomorrow, with a little help from a bribe trip to the dollar store. Whatever works.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Because It's Mother's Day, and that means ME. . .
. . . I started my day opening gifts from hubs and kids, some were sweetly homemade and some decidedly not, like the bottle of '06 Franciscan Cabernet. Mmmmm. I decided it would be bad form to crack it open before 9 a.m.
. . .I sat in church and breathed in the smell of polished wood, peonies, and love.
. . .I spent the afternoon planting two blueberry bushes, a gift to me from me. Now I'm giving them their privacy so they can go forth and cross-pollinate.
. . .I made a huge pot of collard greens for dinner, just the way I like them: shamelessly overcooked into silky, smoky goodness with the help of a hunk of salty bacon.
. . .I decided to adopt Ms. O'Hara's school of thought: That other worry will have to wait til tomorrow.
Happy Mother's Day to all you moms, and those of you are missing your mom, or who got to have fun with your mom today, or for those of you who just have a mother's heart. :o)
. . .I sat in church and breathed in the smell of polished wood, peonies, and love.
. . .I spent the afternoon planting two blueberry bushes, a gift to me from me. Now I'm giving them their privacy so they can go forth and cross-pollinate.
. . .I made a huge pot of collard greens for dinner, just the way I like them: shamelessly overcooked into silky, smoky goodness with the help of a hunk of salty bacon.
. . .I decided to adopt Ms. O'Hara's school of thought: That other worry will have to wait til tomorrow.
Happy Mother's Day to all you moms, and those of you are missing your mom, or who got to have fun with your mom today, or for those of you who just have a mother's heart. :o)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
It Sucked, Then I Cried
The above title is the actual name of a book I saw today at Books A Million. It summed up my day so beautifully, I almost cried. Again. Because my day did indeed totally suck.
Allow me to explain:
6 a.m.--I woke up to find that the teeny, minor poison ivy rash on my left arm had migrated all the way up my side spreading up to my left. . .bra area. I realized that slathering on the calomine wasn't going to work if I actually planned on wearing clothes to work. I made plans to call the Dr. as soon as her office opened.
7:45--Said goodbye to kids and headed out the door, grabbed a high fiber breakfast bar on the way out because yes, that's another purty issue. Realized after a few bites that it tasted like ass. The coffee was good, though.
8:30---Arrived at work and make appt. with my Dr., stood up to stretch and promptly rolled my left ankle, which instantly ballooned to the size and color of a ripe plum. I wish I had footage of me careening backwards, flopping in my desk chair and rolling out of my cubicle, though. Had to be a hoot.
9 a.m.---I actually had a good work groove going and I suddenly remembered that hubs and friends have been sweetly suggesting that if I happen to find myself in front of a Dr., I should maybe, you know, ask for a little "mother's helper" pill to you know, HELP me. I pondered this while elevating my bare left foot on the corner of my desk. I'm glad I went in for a pedicure last weekend.
1 p.m. (or, The Icing On The Crap Cake) --I'm sitting in the Dr.'s office and in the middle of her examination of my ankle and my rash, my cell phone rings. I apologize for having to answer, because it was the number from my dad's assisted living facility. It was the alzheimer's unit manager, and it wasn't good. My dad's behavior has been a little out of control the past few days and today was no exception. I tell her that I'll be right over after the appt. so we can, as she put it, "put our heads together about his future care plan." A few minutes after I get off the phone, my doc reaches for her prescription pad and introduces me to my new friend, Lexapro.
I wanted to record today's events because a year from now,I hope to look back and see that things have greatly improved. I may even laugh a little, things are so much better. Right? Right?
There were some good things too, otherwise I would've gone back to bed at lunch.
For one thing, we unintentionally celebrated Cinco de Mayo here at Casa de Pellin. I had been planning taco night anyway. Also, hubs got some excellent Pacifico beer to go with them. I like him. Also, Uncle Dew from Ohio called to say hi and when we passed the phone to Nate he sang a hilarious song on request. Something about "24 robbers at my door. . ."--I guess you had to be there. Trust me. Hilarious. Liv was also happy and we're all happy to be around Happy Liv.
But mostly? I am happy that May 5, 2009 will be history in about 45 minutes. G'night.
Allow me to explain:
6 a.m.--I woke up to find that the teeny, minor poison ivy rash on my left arm had migrated all the way up my side spreading up to my left. . .bra area. I realized that slathering on the calomine wasn't going to work if I actually planned on wearing clothes to work. I made plans to call the Dr. as soon as her office opened.
7:45--Said goodbye to kids and headed out the door, grabbed a high fiber breakfast bar on the way out because yes, that's another purty issue. Realized after a few bites that it tasted like ass. The coffee was good, though.
8:30---Arrived at work and make appt. with my Dr., stood up to stretch and promptly rolled my left ankle, which instantly ballooned to the size and color of a ripe plum. I wish I had footage of me careening backwards, flopping in my desk chair and rolling out of my cubicle, though. Had to be a hoot.
9 a.m.---I actually had a good work groove going and I suddenly remembered that hubs and friends have been sweetly suggesting that if I happen to find myself in front of a Dr., I should maybe, you know, ask for a little "mother's helper" pill to you know, HELP me. I pondered this while elevating my bare left foot on the corner of my desk. I'm glad I went in for a pedicure last weekend.
1 p.m. (or, The Icing On The Crap Cake) --I'm sitting in the Dr.'s office and in the middle of her examination of my ankle and my rash, my cell phone rings. I apologize for having to answer, because it was the number from my dad's assisted living facility. It was the alzheimer's unit manager, and it wasn't good. My dad's behavior has been a little out of control the past few days and today was no exception. I tell her that I'll be right over after the appt. so we can, as she put it, "put our heads together about his future care plan." A few minutes after I get off the phone, my doc reaches for her prescription pad and introduces me to my new friend, Lexapro.
I wanted to record today's events because a year from now,I hope to look back and see that things have greatly improved. I may even laugh a little, things are so much better. Right? Right?
There were some good things too, otherwise I would've gone back to bed at lunch.
For one thing, we unintentionally celebrated Cinco de Mayo here at Casa de Pellin. I had been planning taco night anyway. Also, hubs got some excellent Pacifico beer to go with them. I like him. Also, Uncle Dew from Ohio called to say hi and when we passed the phone to Nate he sang a hilarious song on request. Something about "24 robbers at my door. . ."--I guess you had to be there. Trust me. Hilarious. Liv was also happy and we're all happy to be around Happy Liv.
But mostly? I am happy that May 5, 2009 will be history in about 45 minutes. G'night.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Random Notes From April '09--and a birthday!
1. Liv shocked us all on the 20th by turning yet another year older. The great number eight was celebrated with a day at Kate's Skating rink. She had a great time with friends and family and has developed a hilarious speed-skating "hunch" when she zips around the rink. Impressive.
2. My dad is still adjusting to his new digs and after a stretch of peaceful days last week he started another roller coaster ride two days ago of bad moods and general ill temper. I'm trying not to go there with him, but it's hard.
3. One of the great things about last week was that my dad actually joined in one of the group activities(OK, he was kind of dragged by his private aide) , watching a guy who plays and sings oldies on piano. I got a text message from the aide that read "HE LIKES IT! HE HAS SMILE ON HIS FACE!"
4. The current state of Olivia: Loves Hannah Montana (or is it Miley that she loves? Can't tell), wearing dresses whenever she can, digging in the school garden, playing with Anna Marie and looking up her friends' numbers in the school directory so she can call them. She's still a little beanpole no matter how much or what she eats. I'm curious to see if that'll last through puberty! But, I can't complain--her snacks of choice lately are skim string cheese with either strawberries or grape tomatoes.
5. The current state of Nate: Still firefighter obsessed. But, since Mark and I have been watching DVD's of old "Rescue Me" episodes, I'm not so keen on the idea of my baby one day knocking down doors and getting a face full of flames. We'll see- - maybe signing him up for one of the hugely expensive science camps this summer will sway his desires. He also loves digging in his classroom garden, playing with best buds Jake and Rowan, and reading his beloved Bob Books. Oh, and playing T-ball on his league. In fact, there's a game tonight---go Knights!
6. General state of Casa de Pellin: We're OK, gearing up for the end of the school year and summer activity. Trying to decide if we have enough cash and time for a vacation this year. We're jonesing for a mini-getaway, maybe Carowinds or a weekend camping trip. Time and finances will tell.
7. What's on the nightstand: Just finished "Sleeping Arrangements" by Laura Shaine Cunningham. Moving, hilarious memoir, albeit a little too honest at times (what sometimes happened to little kids in the streets of 1950's NYC is so disturbing). The author shares the tragedies she suffered prior to age 6 that landed her in the apartment of her two sweet, intellectual bachelor uncles. These guys had no idea how to raise a little girl, but they doted on her shamelessly, often making popcorn for breakfast at her bidding. I was sad to see this one end; it was a nice escape at the end of a tough day. Next up is an offering from my cousin in Ga- - getting a passed-along book in the mail is one of life's great pleasures, I tell you. Can't wait to dig into it.
2. My dad is still adjusting to his new digs and after a stretch of peaceful days last week he started another roller coaster ride two days ago of bad moods and general ill temper. I'm trying not to go there with him, but it's hard.
3. One of the great things about last week was that my dad actually joined in one of the group activities(OK, he was kind of dragged by his private aide) , watching a guy who plays and sings oldies on piano. I got a text message from the aide that read "HE LIKES IT! HE HAS SMILE ON HIS FACE!"
4. The current state of Olivia: Loves Hannah Montana (or is it Miley that she loves? Can't tell), wearing dresses whenever she can, digging in the school garden, playing with Anna Marie and looking up her friends' numbers in the school directory so she can call them. She's still a little beanpole no matter how much or what she eats. I'm curious to see if that'll last through puberty! But, I can't complain--her snacks of choice lately are skim string cheese with either strawberries or grape tomatoes.
5. The current state of Nate: Still firefighter obsessed. But, since Mark and I have been watching DVD's of old "Rescue Me" episodes, I'm not so keen on the idea of my baby one day knocking down doors and getting a face full of flames. We'll see- - maybe signing him up for one of the hugely expensive science camps this summer will sway his desires. He also loves digging in his classroom garden, playing with best buds Jake and Rowan, and reading his beloved Bob Books. Oh, and playing T-ball on his league. In fact, there's a game tonight---go Knights!
6. General state of Casa de Pellin: We're OK, gearing up for the end of the school year and summer activity. Trying to decide if we have enough cash and time for a vacation this year. We're jonesing for a mini-getaway, maybe Carowinds or a weekend camping trip. Time and finances will tell.
7. What's on the nightstand: Just finished "Sleeping Arrangements" by Laura Shaine Cunningham. Moving, hilarious memoir, albeit a little too honest at times (what sometimes happened to little kids in the streets of 1950's NYC is so disturbing). The author shares the tragedies she suffered prior to age 6 that landed her in the apartment of her two sweet, intellectual bachelor uncles. These guys had no idea how to raise a little girl, but they doted on her shamelessly, often making popcorn for breakfast at her bidding. I was sad to see this one end; it was a nice escape at the end of a tough day. Next up is an offering from my cousin in Ga- - getting a passed-along book in the mail is one of life's great pleasures, I tell you. Can't wait to dig into it.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
What is, is.
Lately I've been thinking a LOT about things I would change, if given the power. That pesky, olive-drab carpet that came with my circa 1971 house? Poof!
Gone, replaced with lovely hardwoods. Cost? Zippo. The giant, overgrown crime-against-nature "natural area" in our backyard? Poof! Instantly, it's a lovely, weed-free garden, bursting with FREE organic tomatoes, blueberries and Dove dark chocolate bars (it's MY fantasy, OK?)
But the biggest, most important thing I would make disappear is the cruel, ugly, heartless disease that keeps stealing bits and pieces of the one thing that really, really mattered to my father. His mind. More specifically, his memory.
I can barely bring myself to use the A-word---this thing is too hideous to have such an innocent name. It doesn't deserve one. One name doesn't remotely encompass how cruel this thing is. It steals from people who deserve everything---people like my dad, who are generous, dry-witted, hard-working and capable. It doesn't care who it hurts. And so it hurts everyone. The grandchildren who don't understand, the grown children who ache for their lost parent, the friends who miss their old pal, even when he's sitting right next to them.
It's taken me months and months to realize that, unlike the carpet or the state of my lawn, this thing that's stealing my dad from me is beyond my reach. I can't totally defeat it, even though the medication that he takes can soothe the edges a bit. I needed help, and so did the extended family members who'd been caring for him back home.
My dad recently moved into an assisted living facility about two miles from my house. The experience has not exactly been smooth, but I dare say it's getting a bit less rocky. We have a private aide who comes in each day to help him get acclimated. J does everything from kindly coaxing my dad to take a shower and shave in the mornings to driving him out for ice cream in the afternoons. The other day I asked if he minded bringing my dad to meet me for lunch at a favorite seafood place.
He obliged, and even though all through the meal my dad kept calling J by the wrong name (he seems to think he's an old co-worker buddy of his) I was relieved to see he's finally treating him like a friend instead of an ever-present annoyance.
About an hour later, as I was driving back to work, I found myself wiping away tears. Again. Not an uncommon occurance for me these days, but this time something was different. I felt weird. What was it? Then it hit me. They were tears of joy. All I'd prayed for in recent weeks, if God couldn't take away this illness, was for Him to grant my dad some precious moments of peace and contentment. For so long, I'd felt my prayers had gone unanswered. But for a few splendid moments, as my dad ate his hushpuppies and smiled at me while I told him about Nate's baseball game, there it was. I recognized it. Peace.
He still has his bad days, and I'm sure there are many more to come, unfortunately. But now, I don't feel so alone anymore. And more importantly, neither does my dad.
Gone, replaced with lovely hardwoods. Cost? Zippo. The giant, overgrown crime-against-nature "natural area" in our backyard? Poof! Instantly, it's a lovely, weed-free garden, bursting with FREE organic tomatoes, blueberries and Dove dark chocolate bars (it's MY fantasy, OK?)
But the biggest, most important thing I would make disappear is the cruel, ugly, heartless disease that keeps stealing bits and pieces of the one thing that really, really mattered to my father. His mind. More specifically, his memory.
I can barely bring myself to use the A-word---this thing is too hideous to have such an innocent name. It doesn't deserve one. One name doesn't remotely encompass how cruel this thing is. It steals from people who deserve everything---people like my dad, who are generous, dry-witted, hard-working and capable. It doesn't care who it hurts. And so it hurts everyone. The grandchildren who don't understand, the grown children who ache for their lost parent, the friends who miss their old pal, even when he's sitting right next to them.
It's taken me months and months to realize that, unlike the carpet or the state of my lawn, this thing that's stealing my dad from me is beyond my reach. I can't totally defeat it, even though the medication that he takes can soothe the edges a bit. I needed help, and so did the extended family members who'd been caring for him back home.
My dad recently moved into an assisted living facility about two miles from my house. The experience has not exactly been smooth, but I dare say it's getting a bit less rocky. We have a private aide who comes in each day to help him get acclimated. J does everything from kindly coaxing my dad to take a shower and shave in the mornings to driving him out for ice cream in the afternoons. The other day I asked if he minded bringing my dad to meet me for lunch at a favorite seafood place.
He obliged, and even though all through the meal my dad kept calling J by the wrong name (he seems to think he's an old co-worker buddy of his) I was relieved to see he's finally treating him like a friend instead of an ever-present annoyance.
About an hour later, as I was driving back to work, I found myself wiping away tears. Again. Not an uncommon occurance for me these days, but this time something was different. I felt weird. What was it? Then it hit me. They were tears of joy. All I'd prayed for in recent weeks, if God couldn't take away this illness, was for Him to grant my dad some precious moments of peace and contentment. For so long, I'd felt my prayers had gone unanswered. But for a few splendid moments, as my dad ate his hushpuppies and smiled at me while I told him about Nate's baseball game, there it was. I recognized it. Peace.
He still has his bad days, and I'm sure there are many more to come, unfortunately. But now, I don't feel so alone anymore. And more importantly, neither does my dad.
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