Yesterday, my father had been napping in his --my--favorite chair in the great room for over thirty minutes. He was busy trying to figure out what he was watching on TV when he nodded off.
It was The Price Is Right, for your information. The Price Is Right is one of the rare shows on TV that I'll watch with my father because I happen to think the models who point at this and point at that should be the prizes.
But don't tell my wife.
My father's television watching usually goes like this: He walks in, sits down, and waits for someone--usually my wife--to turn on the TV for him. As soon as the TV light comes on, my father's lights go out.
"Are you asleep, Dad?" I'll ask him, just to make sure he's still alive.
"Snore!" he'll answer.
I was in the kitchen reading a magazine when he woke up.
"Ohhhhhhh!" I heard him say.
I looked up and over at him. When he saw me, he laughed.
"I'm so tired I could fall asleep," he told me.
"You should go to bed, Dad."
"I know that," he said.
True to his word, two minutes later he was back in a geriatric type of suspended animation, and still in his favorite chair. Maybe I should have considered myself lucky because, when he's awake, he's always complaining about his various aches and pains.
"Maybe it's because you sleep in that chair instead of your bed," I tell him.
"That's what I was thinking," he'll tell me, but he won't do anything about it.
It was The Price Is Right, for your information. The Price Is Right is one of the rare shows on TV that I'll watch with my father because I happen to think the models who point at this and point at that should be the prizes.
But don't tell my wife.
My father's television watching usually goes like this: He walks in, sits down, and waits for someone--usually my wife--to turn on the TV for him. As soon as the TV light comes on, my father's lights go out.
"Are you asleep, Dad?" I'll ask him, just to make sure he's still alive.
"Snore!" he'll answer.
I was in the kitchen reading a magazine when he woke up.
"Ohhhhhhh!" I heard him say.
I looked up and over at him. When he saw me, he laughed.
"I'm so tired I could fall asleep," he told me.
"You should go to bed, Dad."
"I know that," he said.
True to his word, two minutes later he was back in a geriatric type of suspended animation, and still in his favorite chair. Maybe I should have considered myself lucky because, when he's awake, he's always complaining about his various aches and pains.
"Maybe it's because you sleep in that chair instead of your bed," I tell him.
"That's what I was thinking," he'll tell me, but he won't do anything about it.
This is one of the funny things about living with my elderly father, when my wife or I tell him something, even if he doesn't understand what we're talking about, he'll answer, "Yeah, I thought so."
Or "I know."
Or "I knew that."
Or "That's what I was thinking."
But it's usually: "Yeah, I thought so."
Or "I know."
Or "I knew that."
Or "That's what I was thinking."
But it's usually: "Yeah, I thought so."
"Dad, the division of everything in nature into the four elemental components is one of the most ancient scientific disciplines."
"Yeah, I thought so."
"Yeah, I thought so."
"On a philosophical or metaphysical level, the elements are generally accepted to represent the following qualities: fire, air, earth, and water."
"I know."
"I know."
"In fact, the science of Numerology incorporates the philosophy of elementals."
"I knew that."
"And the single digits 1 through 9 and the Master Numbers 11 and 22 are divided into groups of three to an element.
"That's what I was thinking."
"These groups are called the Numerological Trinities."
"What's for lunch?"
"I knew that."
"And the single digits 1 through 9 and the Master Numbers 11 and 22 are divided into groups of three to an element.
"That's what I was thinking."
"These groups are called the Numerological Trinities."
"What's for lunch?"
When walking to my bed for a nap becomes too much of a chore for me or sleeping 22 hours a day becomes not enough rest for me or my next bowel movement becomes the only concern for me, I hope soon after that I'll be going to visit my parents in the Great great room in the sky, because when I look at my father today, I know I'm looking at myself tomorrow. I realize that his present is my future. The only difference might be that I'll be sleeping in front of a hologram of my favorite game show, rather than a television screen.
When I first asked my father to move in with us, I didn't realize just how much his life would affects my life. I didn't realize that how he lives will affect how me and my family live. It affects our lives 100%, because our lives have to be lived around his. There is nothing we do that we don't have to take my father into consideration for. We have become servants and slaves to a 96-year-old man.
When I first asked my father to move in with us, I didn't realize just how much his life would affects my life. I didn't realize that how he lives will affect how me and my family live. It affects our lives 100%, because our lives have to be lived around his. There is nothing we do that we don't have to take my father into consideration for. We have become servants and slaves to a 96-year-old man.
I have a friend who's in the same boat. His mother is the willing prisoner of her bedroom. She used to wake up early in the morning, fix breakfast, get her cleaning done, and be busy all day long fussing with her kids. But then she got older, and so did her kids, and, eventually, so did her grandkids. Toss in a few great-grandkids and you'll have an idea of just how old she is.
Now she sleeps.
All day long.
That's all she does.
I told him, "Your mother has the same schedule as the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz."
I hope I don't live that long.
Now she sleeps.
All day long.
That's all she does.
I told him, "Your mother has the same schedule as the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz."
"We get up at noon,
and go to work at one.
Take an hour lunch,
And then by two we're done.
Jolly old fun!"
I hope I don't live that long.
If I can still get around when I'm old, if I can still eat and get rid of what I eat, then maybe I wouldn't mind hanging in there a little longer. But if I can't, then what would be the point of my putting my family's lives in limbo?
No, when God takes me, I hope He takes me just before I want Him to. And painlessly.
Mainly painlessly.No, when God takes me, I hope He takes me just before I want Him to. And painlessly.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
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