I visited my dad yesterday. He seems miserable and depressed. When I asked how he was he talked about his bowels. I wish he wouldn’t. I’m not a nurse (that’s the other daughter!) I don’t want to know about his bowels. That would be the last thing I would dream of talking about to anyone if they asked me how I was, unless it was a very specific question from a doctor and even then I would be reluctant.
Zoë was there, burrowing for chocolate biscuits (with little success). Dad’s not big on hospitality – he’s not unwilling or incapable, he just doesn’t think or do anything about it. Like maybe; put the kettle on, clear a chair so that you can sit, have a table that has a space bigger than his ‘meals on wheels’ plate. He just doesn’t do anything, and so you learn very quickly to help yourself. You have to guide and initiate the conversation too or it would a short and dull visit. He is quite happy leaving the TV blaring and to watch it with you. Anyway, when we got into the car on leaving Zoë said, “He talked about his bowels didn’t he!” Like what sane person does this? Ugh.
Today’s job, after an hour long talk with my sister (the nurse) last night, is to both go around today and clear away the last years worth of newspaper and junk mail that lies around his chair like a big snow drift. Maybe even clear one of two chairs so visitors don’t have to sit on the floor? He has a cleaner, but she just cleans the bits she can see and since every available surface is occupied that doesn’t leave a lot to clean.
I refuse to be like this when I am old. I refuse, I refuse. I will be active and enjoy my life and live in relative cleanliness. Old does not need to equate with slothfulness. He’s only 75 and that’s not old anymore. Funnily enough we are (and I know you mustn’t compare, but…) going on a three-day tramp/hike with Seán’s dad who is the same age in a few days. My Dad can barely get to the letterbox!
I’m hoping his genes bypassed me. Mind you, my mum died at 67 so I’m hoping her genes bypassed me too. I would like to think I was adopted and bear no resemblance at all to anyone in my family. I am singular and unique – just like everybody else.
1 comment:
I think the key to staying active in old age is being active now, and you sound like an active person.
I frequently wish that I could pick and choose my inherited traits from my parent's like a buffet. I'll also often tell myself that maybe certain unwanted traits skip a generation. It may be delusional thinking, but it helps to soothe my worries. I hope you enjoy your walk, that sounds awesome.
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