I just get back from dropping tiff off at the airport... I hear something crash to the ground as I enter the house. I proceed slowly. It's just he and I... Tiff on her way back to atl, mom at work and dez ubering (maybe).
I enter the room to make sure everything is OK... Low and behold a huge puddle of pee and pee soaked clothes on the ground... The bed wet, his shirt and pants wet.
My immediate reaction: "come on dude, you can't have these wet clothes on the ground" Needless to say frustration sets in. I quickly simmer down as I know he needs my assistance : fresh clothes, a shower, clean bedding... & Pee free floor. I get to work.
Grab him some fresh clothes ask him to clean himself up and hop in the shower. I clean the floor first, his house slippers are also pee soaked... I dump the sheets and clothes in the washer... Search for clean sheets in mom's room.
Meanwhile he's taking a nice long shower... Steam is coming from the bathroom... I know how good that hot water feels. I ask him if he's ok... He says yes.
I proceed to changing the sheets.
He finally gets out of the shower and bathroom smelling fresh and looking better. I ask "are you OK?" his response "no" I ask "what's wrong, what else do you need?" he said "I need to throw this (his old depends) in the trash outside"... He walks away very slow. I repeat what I said... He says again that he needs to go to the trash.
I go to my room and it hits me... Not like a ton of bricks, but very gently. I sob soft tears. I think to myself no one really knows the struggle... Then I think about the people who do, Stephanie, Anthony, a friend who recently lost his mom, my mom. Who am I to be sad? Do I have the right to be upset? The other night I was feeling down about this situation as well, and I was told that I'll get through it and that I'm strong. Sometimes i/you get tired of being strong... Then I snap out of my rut and work up the strength to be strong again... I have to be... Dont I? What else can I be?
One person that stays strong through it all is my mom... I mean she has her moments... But day in and day out dealing with my dad, her husband, and the same routine... How does she do it? How do we do it?
Thank you mother nature for my extra sensitivity this month lol (can anyone else sense my sarcasm)
He's in bed now...resting...and not ok. I don't think any of us are. (ok, that is).
Showing posts with label frustrated. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustrated. Show all posts
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Monday, December 8, 2014
"Bitter"...
are the words uttered from moms lips as she expresses her sentiment towards her/our situation. Her demeanor is calm, I could feel her energy as she sat down on my bed. She took a moment to gather herself. I could tell she was trying her hardest to hold back bursting into a sob fest. She told me she had a calm conversation with dad today and he expressed that he wanted to be talked to like a human and if we could talk slow so he could understand. I'm sure mom would love to talk to him in a calm manner...but 15 years of care giving to someone who maybe 85% of the time doesn't appreciate it, is a complicated task. As mom talks slowly it seems as if she has lost her voice, or maybe she was just tired from the previous nights incidents...either way her demeanor is solemn. She explains she never imagined it to be this way...when they got married they had so many hopes and dreams together, she said...this wasn't one of them. She said she never visualized this happening in the beginning of their marriage. Dez peers in the room, towel wrapped around him from just getting out of the shower. She asks us to respect dads wish to be talked to in a normal manner and remarks that last night could have been avoided if Dez could control his temper and ask her to help him. We all agree.
Mom apologizes for our situation and dads actions. I tell her that she doesn't need to apologize for him...apologizing for him as I understand it is her taking on more of his burden. I told her I get what she was trying to do, but we each need to take responsibility for our own actions, whether he is sick or not. And bottom line she didn't make him do what he did/does. I compared it to my brother shooting someone and me apologizing for what he did (just as a hypothetical example)..what kind of sense does that make; me apologizing for something he did? She said well we are married. Maybe legally, but in reality... (I won't go there)
I did ask dad if he was ready to shower and come in last night before I went to bed. He told me to leave him alone. I did.
This morning I heard him on the phone with my aunt...he cried loud tears. I also heard the shower water hitting the tiles...did he really shower? When I finally emerged from my room ready to head to an appointment, he was in the living room eating cereal with cut up bananas all his dirty clothes back n the living room floor. I asked him how he got in the house...he said mom let him in...he lied. I asked him when his family was coming to pick him up..he tried his best to cover up the fact that no one was coming. I asked him how come he was still here, when last night he was saying I'm lucky it wasn't day time..I said it's day time now, so why aren't you leaving...he just tries to mumble something about taking a shower and attempts to kill me with kindness. Still frustrated I tell him to leave...he puts his bowl down, puts his shoes on and as I get in my car, begins to walk down the street...he's not going anywhere.
My aunt calls me concerned...I missed her call. After my appointment I call her back, she says she already talked to mom. They talked about putting him in a home. She said he needs to be somewhere where people have the patience for him and that mentally it sounds like hes getting worse and needs help. Shes a retired nurse. We hang up.
For now he's sleep on the living room floor...he asks for his comfort towel from mom. His clothes wet yet again...he doesn't want to change them, even as mom speaks to him in a very mild mannered tone.
Today dad looks smaller and a bit more frail then yesterday.
Mom apologizes for our situation and dads actions. I tell her that she doesn't need to apologize for him...apologizing for him as I understand it is her taking on more of his burden. I told her I get what she was trying to do, but we each need to take responsibility for our own actions, whether he is sick or not. And bottom line she didn't make him do what he did/does. I compared it to my brother shooting someone and me apologizing for what he did (just as a hypothetical example)..what kind of sense does that make; me apologizing for something he did? She said well we are married. Maybe legally, but in reality... (I won't go there)
I did ask dad if he was ready to shower and come in last night before I went to bed. He told me to leave him alone. I did.
This morning I heard him on the phone with my aunt...he cried loud tears. I also heard the shower water hitting the tiles...did he really shower? When I finally emerged from my room ready to head to an appointment, he was in the living room eating cereal with cut up bananas all his dirty clothes back n the living room floor. I asked him how he got in the house...he said mom let him in...he lied. I asked him when his family was coming to pick him up..he tried his best to cover up the fact that no one was coming. I asked him how come he was still here, when last night he was saying I'm lucky it wasn't day time..I said it's day time now, so why aren't you leaving...he just tries to mumble something about taking a shower and attempts to kill me with kindness. Still frustrated I tell him to leave...he puts his bowl down, puts his shoes on and as I get in my car, begins to walk down the street...he's not going anywhere.
My aunt calls me concerned...I missed her call. After my appointment I call her back, she says she already talked to mom. They talked about putting him in a home. She said he needs to be somewhere where people have the patience for him and that mentally it sounds like hes getting worse and needs help. Shes a retired nurse. We hang up.
For now he's sleep on the living room floor...he asks for his comfort towel from mom. His clothes wet yet again...he doesn't want to change them, even as mom speaks to him in a very mild mannered tone.
Today dad looks smaller and a bit more frail then yesterday.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Newsflash
we were doing sooooo well. He's lost now...I left at 10am to head to the office, he was still here. My sister calls my at 12:30pm, shes at my house, "Dad's gone! The back gate is wide open and so is the front door" She says she has to go, so I immediately call my brother to see what time he gets off or if he was in the area. I get my stuff together and leave the office.
I get home around 1:18pm. How come I can never remember what dad is wearing?! I drive around to his favorite spots, the park, the spots he was found before...nothing. I call the police, call my mom. My mom says to check a house around the corner where they also have french bulldogs...B T Dubs (by the way. a 7 year old taught me to say it that way) Xabi is missing too. Did dad take him for a walk? Did dad try to take him to the backyard and he ran out? Nobody knows.
I don't find him, I come back home.
I don't know what to do, I feel like I should be doing work as these are my last 3 days at this gig. I don't know if I should go out looking. I asked the operator when I called the police what I should do, to which she responds "whatever makes you feel safe?" Now what kind of response is that? Whatever makes me feel safe...did she learn that in training? Is that the script she sees in front of her? WTH does that mean? I wash the dishes, and eat my leftover gyro from lunch yesterday. I actually pick it apart because the pita is soggy. I ate my leftover yogurtland and then the po po comes.
At first it felt like an interrogation, or maybe thats what I projected on them...so many questions. Then I felt as more cars began arriving them feel more sympathy. I recounted the other times he got lost, Dez comes home doesn't find him. They ask for a recent pics..the most recent pics I have are on facebook so I pull one up. Mom comes home, she has a good pic. They take some pics to send out to the squad. What was he wearing, would he go to a bar, what are his habits, has he ever been fingerprinted...so many questions.
I talk to the neighbors across the street, one is upset because he didn't know he was developing dementia, she says she would have kept a closer eye on him. The others tell me they always see him walking and tell him to go back home.
On another note I dropped my phone while talking to the neighbors...the screen cracks...the police have my number, I can't answer it, I must go get it fixed!!!
He's still missing!!!!
to be continued...
I get home around 1:18pm. How come I can never remember what dad is wearing?! I drive around to his favorite spots, the park, the spots he was found before...nothing. I call the police, call my mom. My mom says to check a house around the corner where they also have french bulldogs...B T Dubs (by the way. a 7 year old taught me to say it that way) Xabi is missing too. Did dad take him for a walk? Did dad try to take him to the backyard and he ran out? Nobody knows.
I don't find him, I come back home.
I don't know what to do, I feel like I should be doing work as these are my last 3 days at this gig. I don't know if I should go out looking. I asked the operator when I called the police what I should do, to which she responds "whatever makes you feel safe?" Now what kind of response is that? Whatever makes me feel safe...did she learn that in training? Is that the script she sees in front of her? WTH does that mean? I wash the dishes, and eat my leftover gyro from lunch yesterday. I actually pick it apart because the pita is soggy. I ate my leftover yogurtland and then the po po comes.
At first it felt like an interrogation, or maybe thats what I projected on them...so many questions. Then I felt as more cars began arriving them feel more sympathy. I recounted the other times he got lost, Dez comes home doesn't find him. They ask for a recent pics..the most recent pics I have are on facebook so I pull one up. Mom comes home, she has a good pic. They take some pics to send out to the squad. What was he wearing, would he go to a bar, what are his habits, has he ever been fingerprinted...so many questions.
I talk to the neighbors across the street, one is upset because he didn't know he was developing dementia, she says she would have kept a closer eye on him. The others tell me they always see him walking and tell him to go back home.
On another note I dropped my phone while talking to the neighbors...the screen cracks...the police have my number, I can't answer it, I must go get it fixed!!!
He's still missing!!!!
to be continued...
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
I can get frustrated sometimes
So I know the title of my post, but I want to start off with a positive note. Again I'm happy to report that we've gone two weeks with no missing dad! I start off my morning routine telling him like 5 things now: don't get lost, don't over feed the dog, don't dump the trash, don't use the ice maker, etc etc. some stuff is sticking into his subconscious!
Nevertheless there are some rough moments. Sometimes I just don't know if he's really there or not. Like last Friday night we had a really good talk, we chatted about my day his day etc. Every now and then when stuff piles up it becomes too much. Maybe I should have been blogging more so I wouldn't have blown up. Now my blow up was more emotional on the inside, on the outside I felt as though I remained very calm. Dad spilled juice on the floor, lied about it, and yelled at me because mom didn't take him to the movies when she got home from work...and called us (mom and I) liars. It makes me think about something I heard about how our emotions never grow up and we revert back to a 2 year old very quickly. That made me calm down a bit...but I was just tired and I had to now clean this juice off the floor and it splashed on cabinets...it can be frustrating...it sometimes feels like nothing stays clean. Does anyone else experience this? Anyway, my solution is my Christmas gift to myself...all I want is one of those robotic mop/vacuum things. I wonder if they work...I looked at some vids online, but it still somehow makes me feel like the floor might not get that clean. All I think about it that old commercial "roomba roomba"...everytime I see a dirty floor now I sing that lil jingle.
That's my rant for tonight.
Roomba roomba
Nevertheless there are some rough moments. Sometimes I just don't know if he's really there or not. Like last Friday night we had a really good talk, we chatted about my day his day etc. Every now and then when stuff piles up it becomes too much. Maybe I should have been blogging more so I wouldn't have blown up. Now my blow up was more emotional on the inside, on the outside I felt as though I remained very calm. Dad spilled juice on the floor, lied about it, and yelled at me because mom didn't take him to the movies when she got home from work...and called us (mom and I) liars. It makes me think about something I heard about how our emotions never grow up and we revert back to a 2 year old very quickly. That made me calm down a bit...but I was just tired and I had to now clean this juice off the floor and it splashed on cabinets...it can be frustrating...it sometimes feels like nothing stays clean. Does anyone else experience this? Anyway, my solution is my Christmas gift to myself...all I want is one of those robotic mop/vacuum things. I wonder if they work...I looked at some vids online, but it still somehow makes me feel like the floor might not get that clean. All I think about it that old commercial "roomba roomba"...everytime I see a dirty floor now I sing that lil jingle.
That's my rant for tonight.
Roomba roomba
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