A Day in the Life of a Daughter

I stopped by my parent’s house today to check in on them. They only live 4 houses away but stopping isn’t always possible. Dad greeted me as I came in grabbing my hand as I passed his recliner. The ever present drone of the oxygen condenser barely audible over the multi- decibel television volume. Mom as usual was asleep on the couch while Wheel of Fortune filled the room with vowels and consents.

Once their little dog stopped barking and acknowledged me as a friend. I asked Dad what he was watching. His ever predictable reply, “The television.” To which I reply, “No Dad, What program is this?” He looks at me and then at the television, then back at me. “I have no idea.” I tell him it’s Wheel of Fortune, just as Mom wakes up on the couch. He nods and tells me “Your right, that’s what it is!” Now there is a sense of satisfaction in his face. Dementia is slowly stealing him away. http://www.dementia.com/

Mom is awake now, if you can call it that. She isn’t a morning person and waking her has always been a challenge, but after a few minutes she is perking along. Her first words to me, not surprising, are that she has some letters for me to look over. Paperwork from the doctor and the VA, she just doesn’t understand.

Then she tells me what kind of a day Dad had, if it was good or bad. Good he sits in his recliner and does as he’s told. Bad he wakes up in phlegm and urine and she has to change the bed, which pretty much puts her in a bad mood all day. It’s hard for her to change the bed with her arthritis and I tell her to leave it for me. But she won't, she will struggle through it, telling me how hard it is for her. That’s Mom!

We drag out the letters and I start to read, I get to the first paragraph before she has to show me the latest picture her friend sent her of their little dog. “Nice, it’s really cute, Mom.” I get to paragraph two when she tells me to wait a minute. I look up and she is bringing me a sack full of magazines and catalogs to take home with me. She can’t just throw them away and I may want to read them in my free time. I take them, although free time isn’t a commodity I have. I will donate them to the local library unread, but she will never know. It makes her happy to share them with me. Being in a home 24/7 with a man who no longer understands the life going on around him makes for a lonely existance for her.

I finally get through the letters and take a couple with me for follow-up phone calls. We still have to disenroll Dad from the Medicare RX Plan and we never signed him up. I’ll check the website for WPS Health Insurance, http://www.wpsic.com/index.shtml they have some good information regarding this plan. His care is all through the VA and he cannot be enrolled in any other plan while under their care. Before I leave, I check Dad’s medications, to make sure that Mom got the right pills into the right compartment for the days of the week.

Her eyes aren’t what they used to be, but they are still the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen. She can barely hear and with her arthritis she moves very slowly. Her once five foot frame has shrunk to four foot ten last time we checked, but she is still active, well at least as active as the arthritis allows. From his recliner Dad finally looks over at me and says, “Tami” like a light just came on. Yes Dad, it’s Tami, you got it right this time. Tomorrow may be a different story.