Now that I’ve gotten the diaper thing somewhat down, having my daddy here is not as big an issue as I thought it might be. Mainly because he sleeps nearly twenty hours a day. But in those rare moments that he’s awake, we have some amazing talks.
Years ago, just after my mother passed away, we were having a conversation about dating. The fact that no one in my family had a significant other, including me. To this my father immediately stated, “Oh, you’re done. You don’t get a second chance.”
Shocked (and fearful he might have been right), I blurted, “Dad, how can you say that? I’m only 50 years old.”
Pausing for a moment before he answered, he calmly said, “You only get on chance to do it. It wasn’t your fault. You tried to keep the marriage together, but you need to figure your life out without a man.”
Being the staunch Catholic he was, I knew where this was coming from. You marry once and for life. But as the years have unfolded, he has seen how lonely it can be without a loving partner – both for him and for me.
Last night, while feeding him his dinner, we got on the subject once again.
“Is it hard for you, honey?”
Since this was always such closed discussion, I was surprised he was bringing it up.
“It’s difficult sometimes, dad,” I answered. “All my friends are married. I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere.”
Chewing another spoonful of rice, he stopped and said, “You need to be careful. There are a lot of rotten men out there.”
How right you are, I thought to myself. Dating after marriage is a complicated process. So many people have baggage the size of a steamer trunks that they can’t let go of. Anger and bitterness are two of the heavy items that weigh their lives down.
“Don’t worry, dad. I am.”
He then went on to tell me what men were like, how they can take advantage of a woman, and what to be looking for. I found this advice sweet because even though he still holds on to the concept you marry only once, he could see the emptiness in my life at times.
As a child, my father rarely talked to me, but he always taught me by his living example. The biggest lesson, I had to learn to love myself and the life God gave my – by myself. That tutorial has been invaluable. He also taught me to never settle.
Who knows where my road of life will take me. I know I’d prefer to not do it alone, but if that’s the path I’ve been put on then, like my dad, I will accept it and make the best of the years ahead. His words have always taught me lessons, but his acceptance to the way things are has brought me tremendous comfort. If I can trust that God has me exactly where I’m supposed to be, then all will be right in my world.
Filed under Dating, Self Esteem by 
Caring for an elderly parent can be pure delight. You have sweet moments of conversation, jokes, smiles and a lot of “I love you’s.” It can also be a tad demanding. While understanding you have a busy schedule, they do want what they want when they want it. But life easily tires them out and they sleep for hours giving you a breather from all responsibilities.
So far, the most challenging struggle for me has not been the fact my that house is a mess from the caregiver's paraphernalia: blood pressure device, gauze, Band-Aids, ointments, pills – a million pills, wipes, and diapers, diapers, and more diapers, or the fact that I’m constantly cleaning up to retain some semblance of order. It’s those damn changes of his private parts in the middle of the night that are my undoing.
But being the resourceful woman I am (after all, I somehow managed to get four kids through that stage and out the door), when in doubt, I create a new plan. Like they say, “necessity is the mother of invention.”
Yesterday, before the caregiver left for the evening, I told her I wanted to try to change my father while she watched. If I was doing something drastically wrong she could walk me through the procedure. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough. She’d already done it.
Having his bottom cleaned is an ordeal for my poor father to go through. His dead weight needs a lot of pushing, pulling, and lifting to get that plastic, white sucker in place. By the time he’s fresh and dry, he’s exhausted and needs to sleep – again.
To illustrate the maneuver, flopping his tired body first to the left, then the right, she took a new diaper and laid it underneath his current clean one. In that instant, I had an overwhelming sensation that God was giving me the biggest sign (and a gift) ever.
“Don’t touch it! Leave it right there.” I screamed.
I’ve no problem ripping the old ones off. It’s the new one that throws me into a tizzy. With this layered effect, I could remove the soiled diaper and be ready and raring to go for a new change. Once my dad is in his prone position, he doesn’t move. Therefore, they would wouldn’t either.
Last night worked like a dream. From now on my father will sleep like the Prince and Pea. I will stack several diapers underneath him so I can be at his service at any given notice. Life can be so simple if we allow it.
Filed under Self Discovery by
The first day with my dad in his new home went well. Mainly because he slept through most of it.
Leaving his house after fifty-one years to live with his daughter was painful. It was the last shred of independence he had left in his ninety-five years. Watching him look around his new surroundings dazed and confused nearly broke my heart, but being the trouper he’s always been known to be, he stared at his freshly painted yellow room, smiled and went into a deep sleep for nearly five hours. Sleeping is what my dad has always done best in times of defeat.
Dinner time was sweet. I made him real food (something I rarely do anymore). We sat together in his room while I carefully fed him his meal spoonful after spoonful. Memories of days long ago came flooding back as I remembered each one of my babies needing my help to get their nutrition into their hungry little mouths, chewing furousiously, then opening wide indicating they wanted more.
My biggest nemisis in all this will be the diaper changes. I have no problems doing this task for the man who brought me in the world and who has stood by me through all my ups and downs, especially the downs. But just like when Michelle first came home from the hospital, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
With her, it was putting on the cloth diapers with those deadly safety pins. Struggling as I tried to secure her, without stabbing and killing her first, brought me to tears. Finally, I succumbed to the easy paper ones and all became right in my little world.
With my father, we're using those fabulous modern devices that I’m sure are the bane of every garbage dump. But the problem is his body is dead weight and I need to learn how to shift him around with the aid of the bed linens. I know there's a trick to all this. Last night, my first try was a disaster.
Needing a fresh one before I went to bed at 11:00 (the caregiver had done the last right before she went home at 6:00) , I found him sound asleep. Gently waking him, I told him what I was about to do. He kept reassuring me he was fine, but of course he wasn’t.
Getting the damn thing off and wiping him down was easy. It’s amazing how those suckers rip off the body when pulled with just the right amount of strength. Getting a new one back on was another matter. Pushing and pulling his 175 lb. body around the bed I panicked. This was not working.
After five tries and two mutilated diapers later, I finally got it in place (with a little help from a large bolt of plastic tape). Wears rising in my eyes, all I could say was “I’m so sorry dad. I need some lessons in this.”
I know he was uncomfortable and it must have felt awkward, but he gently took my hand, kissed me good night and said, “You did a great job, honey.”
This dance my father and I'll be doing will be one of much practice. I will need light feet, good music, and extra lessons, and much patience – for me. But in the end it will be worth it, even if I have to buy a case of adhesive to keep my entire life together. My daddy’s home.
Filed under Self Discovery by
My daddy finally arrived after a month of meticulous planning. At ninety-five, bringing just the right personal belongings was paramount. There was the hospital bed, wheelchair, walker, cane, prescription drugs to keep him awake and to help him sleep, the special diet, and a few clothes.
Later in the evening, after a five hour nap, he woke hungry for my home cooking. I found this flattering but humorous. I’m a lousy cook. After my mother passed away eight years ago, it’s been my father and the Tongan princess in our family home. Now it was my turn to care for him.
After consuming his large plate of chicken and rice, along with a few bites of carrot cake from Safeway, a worried look come over his face.
“Did you bring it?”
“Bring what?” I asked.
Just the day before, I was instructed to bring all the valuables from our home for safekeeping. In fifty-one years, those precious treasures filled two small boxes. Looking at my light load, I was humiliated thinking that my children would most likely need a moving van to collect the items I hold dear. Materialistic is my middle name.
“My rosary,” he said with earnest. “I need to say my prayers.”
Going to the box with the smaller items, I found a Mother of Pearl white rosary. I knew this wasn’t the one he used every night, but in his mind, a rosary is a rosary. They all do the same trick.
And with that, he smile that sweet smile I have grown to melt over, gingerly fingered the worn beads in his only working hand, closed his eyes, and began to pray. How simple life has become for him. I can see now – I still have a lot to learn from him.
Filed under Inspirational Stories, Spirituality by
