But, Who Takes Care of the Sewage?

Dad lives in an independent living community.  Last night he asked me who has to take care of the sewage. I hesitated before answering, and he elaborated. He was wondering, he told he, who hooked up the hose for water and the electrical lines where he lives, and was puzzled whether he was supposed to hook up the sewage. He was worried because he knew he hadn't connected any hoses or sewer lines  I realized that Dad was either thinking about the times he traveled on a large sailboat or a motorhome. I guess it isn't that surprising, since I am on the road in our motorhome and tell him about campgrounds we are visiting. Dad was pleasantly surprised when I told him the building, and his apartment, had sewage and water pipes built into it, as well as the electrical wires. He thought that was great!

Source

The State of the Union

Dad is living with his lady friend, a gal more than 15 years his junior. When they were considering their current living arrangements I talked with his lady friend to try to determine her motivation for moving in with Dad. As he was still dealing with details of his disastrous divorce, I was hesitant for him to begin another messy situation. She seemed genuine enough and seemed to be involved in the relationship because she cared for my Dad, not for his money. She said he was like an Oreo cookie. The part on the outside was OK, but inside there was some really sweet stuff.
Recently my dad's lady friend was asked what she envisioned as her future when my dad passed on. She surprised me by saying she wanted to get a small apartment, downtown, where she could be near restaurants, museums and other cultural activities. I had figured she would want to stay in the continuing care retirement community. I began thinking that Dad may be a ball and chain, holding her back from her own dreams. So, today I took her out for lunch so we could have a frank conversation without 'you-know-who'!
What a wonderful woman! She felt that Dad was requiring more of her attention at this point in time than he had last year, but, she said she was still fine with the arrangement. She agreed to let me know when she needed more help, whether it was my taking on more responsibility, or arranging for some additional care, or whether it was that Dad needed to consider moving to an assisted living situation. She didn't feel that her life and happiness were compromised by her involvement with my dad.
After the disaster of his brief marriage, to a whiny, self-centered woman, this lady is remarkable! But, you know, I don't think Dad would have appreciated her as much had it not been for living with someone who was so totally opposite!

Checking It Twice

I don't know about you, but I rarely write checks anymore. Dad is no different. He writes a few checks for Christmas gifts, and he writes checks for his taxes. It takes Dad a while to write a check. He flips back and forth between the check and the check register, loses his place, and finally figures out where to write everything. As long as he has only one check to write, everything goes smoothly. However, he gets confused when he has to write several checks. He forgets who he has written a check to and has trouble getting each check in the correct envelope. Then, when they are in envelopes, he forgets that he has written a particular check, and will try to write another. Luckily almost all of his bills are handled through bill pay. Most are on auto pay, and the rest I take care of for Dad. When he gets a bill, he calls me and I access his account and fill in the necessary information to have the bill handled. 

I bought a "Paid" stamp for Dad. I think he'll like it. It will give him a job to do. It will also help avoid his panic when he stumbles on a bill and thinks it hasn't been paid. Dad will spend hours at his desk. He'll go through the file cabinet and look through papers he finds in there. For whatever reason, he thinks they are all current. Now, as long as he doesn't use the stamp until he has talked to me about a bill, he'll know the status.

A Bad Situation Turns Out OK...This Time

Dad got a phone call this afternoon. Apparently the "Impeach Obama" group is seeking donations. Since Dad is a devout, died-in the wool, card carrying Republican who has donated to the party and its friends in the past.... he has a target on his back. I wasn't there, but Dad's girl overheard the conversation. The group had Dad's credit card number - I'm not sure how or why, and he agreed to their hitting him up for $175.00. As soon as his girl heard him agree to the donation she read him the riot act. She told Dad that one should never... NEVER... give money over the phone. There is no way to know who is accessing his information, who will actually benefit from the donation and what other uses they might make of the account information. She got on the phone to his credit card institution.

Then, things get interesting. There was no draft on his account in that amount. Actually, there were no charges on his card for the last 4 days. The agency suggested that Dad's card be cancelled, and a new one issued. His girl explained that he had just gotten this card and we have just changed all of his bills over to the new number. She hated the idea of going through all of that again. The clerk from the bank was able to access information from the old credit card number. He noticed that a charge of $175.00 had been charged on the card today.... and denied! Hooray!

I talked with Dad about the dangers of phone solicitations. He sounded surprised when I explained that there were all sorts of scams out there to bilk people out of their money. I told him, in the future, to suggest that the organization send him information to read, and only then might he consider a donation. But, I don't believe this will stop Dad from making a donation to a good sales pitch for a cause he believes in.

Any suggestions?

The Pain was Excruciating

Sometimes I participate in a writing challenge hosted by Jenny Matlock at Off on a Tangent. Jenny provides a prompt and sometimes a style of writing, and we are challenged to use the prompt in a post, generally of no more than 100 words plus the prompt. This week's prompt was:

The pain was excruciating...

I wanted to do something a bit different. I wanted to stay away from writing something about physical pain. Then, I thought about my father. I see my dad suffer when he knows he used to be able to do something, and has lost the capacity to recall how to do it now. The pain must be excruciating!

The old man sat hunched over his desk, swallowed by the worn sweater wrapped around his barrel chest. He stared at the computer screen in front of him, with rheumy eyes, a tear escaping and rolling down the leathery skin of his cheek. The mouse in his gnarled hand felt comforting, but images on the screen brought deep despair. He remembered that he used to work this computer. He used to know how to find things on the computer. He knew much of his life was inside the machine, but he was damned if he could get to it now. The pain was excruciating.

Visit Jenny's blog to read more responses to her Saturday Centus prompt:

Whose Job Is It?

In my last post I talked about Dad's obsession with working. Things are changing, perhaps, just a bit. Today I got a call from Dad asking if I could come over and help him. He said he just couldn't make heads or tails of the 'stuff' on his desk and he had some notes he had made that he couldn't figure out. I headed over to his place and we began going through the pile piece by piece. The first few items were mailings from charitable organizations asking for donations. Dad and I had talked about each one on the phone the night before. I have access to his bank account online, so I was able to see that he had already given each organization a donation this year. I told him to shred the document. He didn't want to because he wanted to hang on to the forms so he could make a donation to the organization next year. I told him that I was sure the folks would send another mailing in the new year. I told him to at least write that he had contributed to the organization. I gave him the date and the amount. Evidently Dad didn't remember our conversation from the night before. I went over the information with him again, and this time we did shred or throw away the donation forms.

From there we moved to a discussion about taxes. Dad wanted to put together some things, like copies of checks he had sent to charitable organizations, to send to his accountant for tax purposes. I suggested that we collect those items and send everything at year end. I did meet some resistance, but Dad finally relented and allowed me to set up a file for him to put tax documents in as he found them or as they arrived in the mail. Do you want to take bets on whether the accountant gets some things mailed to him in the next few days?!

Then Dad asked me about an email that was open on his computer. The email was from early August and the information it contained was 'water under the bridge'. Dad kept asking, "Are you sure?" Even though action had been taken on the email in August, he didn't recall that and thought he might need to do something with it now. We sifted through his inbox and I helped him delete junk, move important emails to folders and clear out the inbox. Again, I have access to his email online, so I do try to run interference from home, clearing out things that aren't important, but somehow had missed these few items. 

Dad had some questions about his Address Book on the computer. And as I was helping him sort through things he asked, "How do you know how to do all of these things?" That was such a bittersweet question as Dad used to know how to manage his email, his address book and more. 

Finally, Dad looked at me and asked if I could come and help him like this every week. He said he was just getting into a big 'mess' with everything and couldn't deal with it. Awwww, Dad, you are breaking my heart! Of course I'll help you! Today I am taking an 'in' box over to place on his desk. That will (hopefully) become the place that Dad can put things when he isn't sure what to do with them. This will become my work and I gladly accept the new assignment!

Gotta Have A Job to Do

Dad is always busy. Whenever I suggest that he go to a meeting at his community, or go with me to see some interesting event in town, he tells me he has too much to do. He says he is too busy. Husband and I sometimes shake our heads in wonderment - just what does Dad have to do?

Dad takes his 'job' very seriously. He sits at his desk for hours every day. After all, this is what he did when he worked, and work is a defining characteristic of his being. He sifts through papers. And sifts through them again. He opens old emails and clicks on things that show up on his computer screen, opening documents or navigating to sites on the Internet. He pulls files out of the cabinet and reads through papers, many of which were filed over a decade ago.

When Dad is 'working' he will often call me with a concern, based on what he has found. Today he was questioning a 'discrepancy' he noted in the sale of his condominium. Dad noted that the bottom line of the sales document showed a refund of several thousand dollars. He wanted to know if he had to pay that amount. Dad didn't sell his condo; I asked Dad to tell me the date of the sales contract. He noted that it was written on 2/15/08. I often get the feeling that Dad doesn't recognize the significance of dates any longer. He seems to consider everything as current. I suggested that the document must have been generated when Dad bought the condo, four years ago. After a discussion of why there might have been a refund due, and how that was probably handled, Dad seemed to accept that this transaction was complete.

I often wish that Dad would turn the computer off and get away from his desk. I wish he would sit down and read, or watch TV, or go for a walk. But, then, I have to think that Dad is happiest when he is working.