I’m Not Getting Old

Yes, I realize that getting older happens every day. That isn’t really what I mean. It’s late, and here I sit contemplating whether it’s safe to go to sleep. See, my 81 year old father lives with me, and he has been making me crazy today. OK, crazier than I usually am. It started last night, or rather, early this morning...

At 4:25 a.m., I hear his LifeAlert alarm go off. It’s a little button he wears around his neck that he is supposed to push that will signal the phone to call the LifeAlert people. It makes a really loud screeching noise. It’s enough to bring you straight up out of a sound sleep. The LifeAlert people, in turn, check to see if he needs assistance and call for help, if needed. I get up, I’m half-asleep, hear the phone dialing, can’t quite figure out what’s going on. Father is in bed, has the LifeAlert button held up to his ear, and he is clicking the button. The LifeAlert guy is now talking over the phone, I’m trying to get Father to stop pushing the button and tell the guy on the phone that we are OK at the same time.

The guy on the phone laughs and tells me to have a nice night (yeah, right!). I foolishly ask father what the devil he was doing. He says “I dunno!” Oh, good. Ask him if he feels all right, if he was having a bad dream. “I dunno!” Then he says he needs some toast. It’s now 4:45 am. I make toast. He has toast, then needs a drink of water.

I go back to bed about 5:20 am. About 6:00, I hear noise in there, again. He appears to be dreaming, and is having one heck of an argument with someone. For my sanity, he needs to wake up. He doesn’t wake up gracefully, (I come by that honestly) get him settled down and try again to go back to sleep. Gave up about 7:30, got up and decide to go out to the adoption kennel. Go check on him. He is snoring up a storm. Figures. He can sleep, I can’t. He wakes up before I leave, and he appears to be fine.

Get back from the kennel, feed Father, then settle down to read and, hopefully, take a nap. Of course, since I want to nap, he wants to talk. Eventually, he gets up, heads down the hall, and I hear a crash. He has decided he is going back to bed. At 3:00 pm. He tried to sit before he was close enough to the bed (did I mention that he has really bad vision, has had a stroke, and his balance stinks?) Pick him up off the floor and try to convince him it’s too early to go to bed. No dice. He is going. End of story.

I sit and read and wonder if I should be concerned. About 9:30 pm, I go check on him for about the 10th time. He is getting undressed. Asked him what the devil he is doing, he says he is cold and he is going to put his clothes on. He wears a sweatshirt and sweat pants for pajamas. Told him it’s 9:30 at night, and he decides maybe he will just go back to bed.

Now it’s almost midnight, he is talking in his sleep again, and I’m wondering if he will stay in bed, or if he will be giving me more excitement that I don’t need. I can’t get mad at him, I know he can’t see, doesn’t hear well, and while he is still able to do the basics, he doesn’t get around well. I know he is frustrated at his life, and there really isn’t much either one of us can do about it.

Don't misunderstand. I don't regret for one minute having him live with me. I just worry about him. A lot.

Then I wonder, how will I handle life if my life becomes like his? Hopefully, that’s a long way down the road yet, but it’s something I think about. How would I handle being forced to leave my home. Not be able to drive, to go where I want to go. Couldn’t cook my own meals. What if I couldn’t see well enough to watch the 42" TV I have hanging on the wall about 10 feet from his chair? Couldn’t hear well enough to listen to TV or the radio?

Many have heard me say, in jest, that I’m saving a .38 bullet in case the time comes when I just can’t stand my life any more. I’m not so sure I’m kidding.