He's Meditating on It

Yesterday I shared the news with my 95 year old Dad.

"Laura is pregnant".

A slight, soft smile crossed his face; maybe a small chuckle.

"I guess this means she's getting married", he said.

And then I explained the rest of the story. He was thoughtful,  quiet, absorbing all that I told him. We sat together in silence. He wasn't upset. He wasn't overjoyed. He took it all in. He listened and ate a couple of York peppermint patties.

"I'm meditating.", he said. "I have a lot to think about."

I'll be interested in what his meditation brings forth over the coming weeks. He's such an honest man; honest but also thoughtful.

"She's a beautiful girl that Laura.", he added.



 

When Dad Knows, It's Time for the World to Know.

Hearing aids serviced and best possible operating condition: check

Dad wearing both hearing aids: negative. He was wearing only one

Dad is a reasonably good mood: negative. He was cranky about the sore on his face, aggravated by "the way the girls on for the weekend shave me" and his burned out light bulb with no replacement in sight.

Dad and daughter visiting alone: negative. Laura wanted to go with me to visit her grandfather. "There's nothing else to do and going will distract me". (sigh)

One out of four requisites didn't cut it. Tomorrow may be a better day to let him know our news and be open to his response. I have no clue what he'll say but whatever it is, he'll (probably and hopefully) be honest and say what's on his heart even though he respects privacy (see last post).

"I Don't Know, and I Won't Ask"....

Dad is cool. And here's why I think so....

Sunday we attended the Homecoming church service at SFB. Homecoming service is a big deal because the choir comes out of hibernation, puts on their blue and white choir robes and music abounds. This after a long, dry summer with a soloist here and there and the organist but none of the great anthems we've come to expect over the years. The service was great and Dad thoroughly enjoyed the music and the fanfare.

But, he still can't hear worth a damn despite his hearing aids. That's a topic for a separate discussion entirely. He hears the music because the decibel level is up there. As for the greeting, the sermon, the readings, and the prayers; he's basically stone deaf to it all  that's spoken in church.

During one of the hymns, there's an opportunity to come forward with specific prayer requests. In all my years attending church I've only done this once before; one time when Dad was sick and hospitalized back in 2006. I asked for prayers for his healing and the request was read aloud along with multiple other prayer requests.

This past Sunday, I definitely had something worthy of a prayer or two and so I left my seat with Dad telling him I'd be "right back". I didn't think he even missed me and I certainly didn't think he heard my prayer request. He never mentioned a thing about it.

Until....the next day, Laura and I stopped by to visit him and we got to talking about how lovely the church service had been.

Dad: "Yes, and you got up during the hymn and walked up to one of the ministers."

Me: "Yeah, I had a prayer request. The minister mentioned all the requests during the prayers of the people part of the service. You couldn't hear what she was saying, could you?"

Dad: "No. I couldn't hear anything. I don't know what you were praying for and.....I won't ask".

We laughed and moved right on to another topic of conversation. Dad is very perceptive, even more so it seems in his 90's and at the most unexpected times. He knew there was something on my mind, something that made me want to walk up and talk to a minister with a prayer request but he's never been one to pry. Always willing to listen but he never pushes.

I do intend to share my prayer request with him. He needs to know. And, perhaps he can offer his sage advice which might possibly be...."It'll all turn out OK in the end".

Thanks in advance, Dad.

Resentment vs Guilt

When I visit Dad, as I did today, I.....

1. Ask how he is sleeping.
2. Water his plant
3. Straighten the framed photos on the wall that have slipped out of place
4. Check the candy and Ensure supply
5. Ask about library books; which ones are ready to go back?
6. Check and remark about the updated Exxon Mobil stock quote
7. Clean and change the batteries in his hearing aids.
8. Hand him his 5 pound weight and encourage him to "lift 200 pounds", a hundred with each arm
9. Check the volume on his telephone
10. Let him know when I'll be back next and ask if he wants anything

Today he complained about not getting his eye drops. He also couldn't give me a definitive "yes" about going to church on Sunday and told me to call him back on Sunday morning to decide yay or nay. He wasn't happy about his shoes and couldn't understand why his foot care provider wanted him to get a new pair. He told me Geydon will only let him have 2 peppermint patties a day. He pointed out that the carpet in his room had been professionally cleaned recently. He told me that as soon as I left he was going to get one of the caregivers to take him out for a walk. When I told him he looked good today, he said, "Thank you" and smiled.

Each visit is much the same. He seems to welcome my company but I'm lately feeling as though his world is shrinking smaller. The smallest things are huge for him.

Sometimes battling the snarled up traffic to drive all the way to Northgate and back seems like such a waste of precious time. I wish he were closer.  I spend more time in the car than I do with him. A big bite comes right out of the day when I go to Dad's.  Balancing the feelings of resentment with the guilt of not going when I could or should is rough. Guess which is the worse feeling? Yep...guilt is way worse. Always has been and always will be.

And, tomorrow is another day.

Happy Birthday to Me

Today was a perfect day, starting with a good night's sleep after a two day camping trip whilst tossing and turning in a sleeping bag inside of a tent. The trip was marvelous but the sleep...not so good.

I totally indulged myself in the day, my 58th Birthday.

First the coffee and newspaper.

Then, the triple pickup: garbage, recycle, and yard waste. Purge!

Then a sweet call from my darling Daughter.
And, lots of Facebook greetings.

Then, the much needed haircut from Ching.

Then, lunch at Menchies, using my gift card to indulge in another triple whammy: coconut, original tart, and watermelon ice topped with mini-chocolate chips. Divine.  I am totally addicted.

Then, a visit to Dad. Bless his heart; he sang Happy Birthday to me and I caught it on video. Last year he sang to me as well but I didn't have my camera on him in time. I remember praying that he'd remain healthy and with us a full year later so I could hear him sing again. Yes!

 

Then, a lovely, relaxing interlude at the salon getting a pedicure whilst reading People Magazine.

Then, I did something I've never done.....more later. Maybe.

Then, a wonderful dinner at Palisade with my man.

Kate and Denny 8/27/12

 

Then, a stop at Whole Foods for a sweet dessert to enjoy. And, then a call from my wonderful Son and Daughter-in-Law with more greetings.

And now, I sit with my laptop and ponder how wonderful it is to celebrate birthdays and another blessed year. May there be many more. There is so much living ahead.

I am blessed. Blessed. And, very grateful.

Saga of Shoes

My Dad rarely puts in a request for new clothing or shoes. When Mom was alive she told me he declared at age 80 that he owned enough shirts and ties to "last forever" and requested "no more".  We've not exactly complied with that request. What else do you get Dad for his Birthday or Christmas or Father's Day but a new shirt and sweater vest? 

Here's Dad wearing a shirt and vest purchased for some such celebratory event. He wears it proudly as he works out with his 5 pound weight.

As for shoes, for the last 6 years he's had only two pair; one black and one brown. The black ones  are totally spent. As I think about it, we need to pitch them as he hasn't had them on his feet for years and for good reason. The brown ones, purchased ages back from Lands End, are enormous slip on shoes that have seen use every single day. He's worn them to church (yikes), Thanksgiving dinners, and my Mom's Memorial service. We try not to look at his feet. Attempts to polish them end up a fool's errand as they never look any better. Countless times we've asked Dad if he'd like a new pair. "No", sayeth he. Ok, I think. Be that way. You're 95, you can decide for yourself.

The "NO" turned into a yes (finally) when Betty, his foot care lady called me to say that Dad's shoes were a disaster; totally eroded on the inside and cutting into his toes. Did Dad complain prior to this? Negative. But, once Betty told him new shoes were highly recommended, shoes were on his mind, constantly.

My first attempt fizzled when the size 12 B shoes from Macy's were "nice but too tight". So, I ordered from Lands End, a 12 wide with shoes to be shipped to his address. Every day I'd ask...."Shoes there yet, Dad".  "Not yet". Sigh. The postal tracking indicated delivery on 7/31. But, there were NO DAMN SHOES and Dad, although pleasant in his complaints, was clear in his remarks that his current pair "hurt my feet". Sigh.

A call to Lands End after waiting several days for the shoes to be delivered revealed that the "package must be lost, Ma'am. We'll send another pair in the mail for you right away". Meanwhile, one of the caregivers pointed out that the postman had delivered a "tried to deliver" note. According to the writing to the left: "garden sprinkler across entry". The post office can't deal with a garden hose? C'mon!  By now, Dad's desperate for shoes and I'm steaming.

Long story short: I picked up the original pair of shoes at the post office and a day later the second pair arrived. At least he's happy with the fit and style. But, he doesn't want both pair. "You'll need to get the ones in the box back to Lands End, sweetheart."

OK Dad.  OK.

Success at last. New shoes and they make him happy. Love it when that happens.....

Grateful for my Feet

Growing up, I didn't like the look of my feet. They reminded me of my Dad's feet. Mom's feet were so feminine and nice looking. Somehow, my Dad's genes reigned strong on this trait, for me and my siblings.

Dad would say, "What's wrong with your feet? They look like mine and they're fine, strong feet". I wasn't able to see what he saw until many years later. He was so right; these feet are just fine. Think of all the miles they've carried me and they still look OK.

Feet can be timeless (note: can be). If all you see is someone's feet it can be really tough to predict their age. Truly young feet can look old and vice versa. My Mom's feet maintained their youthful, feminine look up until the day she died at age 93. Amazing. Amazing feet.

As an aside, two days a week I ply my trade as a kidney doctor in the Podiatry clinic in our Federal Way location. When working at a remote site, you take whatever space is available. At first I was off-put by the anatomic posters of feet on the walls and the three dimensional models of ankle and metatarsal bones. Now I've come to appreciate my home-away-from-home in the foot clinic. The podiatrists are an interesting group; I've grown to enjoy their company and enjoy the  fact that we work and think from such different perspectives. Vive le difference.

What makes me chuckle is listening to my podiatrist colleague dictate outpatient notes. He describes in great detail things that sound incredibly gross....

"......the severely mycotic ram's horn toenails..." brings to mind these images. I've seen them frequently and fail to understand how something like this takes hold in the first place. I could always ask my podiatrist friend. From the number of those afflicted, clearly this is bread-and-butter business for him.

I'd best not be smug. When I'm old I may not be just wearing purple; I may be sporting these However, if I continue in the path of  my 95 year old Dad, I won't. Thankfully.

And Seven make Nine

Most days when I visit my Dad, we'll spend time "naming the family"; my term for the process whereby he calls out the names of his seven grandchildren and their significant others. Then, he'll move on to his great grandchildren, a considerably more challenging generation for him. But, run through the list we do and he enjoys knowing exactly who belongs to who. 

He and Mom have seven grandchildren; 6 girls and 1 boy all born over a 20 year span from 1968 to 1988.  We've got but a few photographs of all seven together with their grandparents. These two are treasures. The first was taken in Aruba when Mom and Dad rented a house for a month and we all flew down with our families to join them for various lengths of time. The second was taken at the Arapahoe house in Seattle when we gathered to celebrate Mom's Birthday. See what 19 years does to young kids? They all grow up, as do their elders.

"The days are long but the years are short."

Summer 1989

Summer 2008

Wonderful memories. Thank goodness for cameras and visual reminders of good times spent together.