The Dog Dad Doesn't Have

Dad loves dogs. 

Specifically, Dad loves Golden Retrievers. 

Having a dog, especially a large dog in an apartment

would be a challenge for Dad. 

However, having a dog come visit is a perfect solution.

Meet Clyde. Clyde belongs to a friend of mine.

He is the biggest Golden I have known.

He is a bundle of love.

He knew exactly who's feet he should lie on!

Freaky Friday

I received a phone call from Judy, Dad's lady friend, yesterday. She was very worried about Dad. He was on the floor, trying to disentangle an extension cord because he needed to walk the dog. If she tried to divert him from the task he became agitated because the dog needed to be walked and this was the leash. The cord wound around behind a piece of furniture and snaked over other cords. Dad continued his obsessive task continually expressing concern about needing to walk the dog. Dad doesn't have a dog.
In addition, Judy commented, Dad seemed to have a sinus infection, as he was congested and his head hurt. He even held his hands over his ears to try to stop the pain. He wouldn't hold onto the phone to talk to me, wanting to hold his head instead. I talked with him on speaker phone and he commented about the electrical shocks in his head.
We decided he should visit the Doctor in his building. However, he was still in his pajamas. Apparently Dad had trouble getting his clothes on, having some issues with motor control. He also chose to put his clothes over his pajamas. The trip to the doctor brought no relief. She checked his vital signs and they seemed to be alright. She drew some blood, and later, the results proved to be normal. Dad continues to be in pain, he had trouble sleeping last night and has little appetite. He also seems to find it difficult to hold things, whether because he wants to continually hold his head, or whether it is some sort of neurological problem, I don't know.
The most difficult aspect of this is that I am out of town, and it is a weekend. My first reaction was to have Dad taken to the emergency room. Judy was, and remains, dead set against this. She had horrifying experiences with ER's with her first husband, who is now deceased. Later, when I talked with the Doctor, she indicated that an ER is not the best place for a geriatric patient experiencing cognitive problems. How sad. Her preference, if Dad's symptoms remain the same, is to wait until she can set dad up for the necessary tests as an outpatient on Monday. And so, we wait. We worry. We wish that Tylenol would alleviate Dad's discomfort.

Dad rowing the dog ashore in earlier days

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: