RaisingDad

I remember back when I was a kid, my parents got me a very expensive gift for Christmas that I absolutely could not live without. It cost them about a hundred dollars, and in those days a hundred dollars was a lot of money, especially on my father's paycheck. Being in the lower single-digits age-wise, I ended up just playing with the very big box the gift came in.      The following Christmas, I overheard my father tell my mother, "Why don't we just buy him another box and get something for ourselves instead?"      Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene  

I told you last week how my wife and I ran into an old buddy of mine at Costco. He was with his wife. A nd then I told you how that very same buddy had recently been diagnosed pre-Alzheimer's.      Well, my buddy and I sat down in the snack area to catch up on current events. I even bought him a slice of pizza and something to drink, because 1) I was hungry and don't like to eat in front of other people when they're not eating, and 2) if I waited for him to treat me to a pizza and something to drink I'd be waiting an awfully long time. I'm not saying he's cheap, but copper wire was invented when he and his dad fought over a penny. Meanwhile, my wife and his wandered off into the huge warehouse to see who could get to zero on their bank accounts first.      In the privacy of the Costco aisles, my wife later told me that she asked my buddy's wife, “How is it having a husband with Alzheimer’s?”    ...

Sad news.      Even sadder than usual.      A friend of mine from work was recently diagnosed pre-Alzheimer's. He's retired and spends a lot of his time searching the internet for a cure. It gives him hope, I guess.      When my lovely wife and I recently ran into him and his wife at Costco, the wife started explaining the sad situation to us.       “But I’ve got a great doctor,” my friend cut in. There was never a conversation he didn't want to dominate.      “You do?” my wife asked, being polite. “Maybe I know him. What’s his name?”      “Aw, jeez,” my friend said, “his name. You know, with this Alzheimer’s, sometimes I forget things.”      My wife and I nodded our heads in sympathy.       “His name... his name...” he said, trying ...

The thing about getting older is that you find yourself going to the doctor more often. Blood tests, mammograms if you’re female, colonoscopies.      Can’t I just take a pill?      The thing I hate most is referrals. Whatever little complaint I might mention, my doctor is quick to refer me to ANOTHER doctor.      Heck, even I can do that!      Now that I think about it, when I was starting out in the business world, I should have legally changed my first name to “Doctor.” That way, I could have just rented out an office and made my living referring patients to real doctors.     You know, the ones who didn’t have the intelligence to avoid medical school.      Well, the good news is I’m in good health, but my bad cholesterol levels are high, so, in addition to losing weight, I have to change my diet. More fish, less fried foods, cut out sugar and fast food. You know, the things that make life worth ...

When kids ride in the back seat of a car with their friends, they forget a parent is sitting behind the wheel listening to everything they say.      I was taking my daughter and her friend to school one day when I overheard the friend say she had walked in on her parents in the middle of doing, well, um... you know. The thing that horrified her the most was seeing that her father was wearing his CPAP mask.      “It was like watching Darth Vader having sex,” she said.     Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene   

It's funny about the restaurant I used to buy my mother’s gourmet enchiladas at.      What am I talking about?      I'm talking about back when my beloved mother was still alive, I used to go over every Saturday morning for breakfast. When my schedule at work changed, so did the time I was able to go over and visit. It became lunch, and, I'm not quit sure how, but the routine also changed from my going over there to eat, to my going over there to take her lunch. I always asked her in advance what she would like, but her order never changed.      What about your father?      You sure do ask a lot of questions, my friend.      Well, my father preferred home-cooked meals, so my mother would still have to fix him something to eat. I think he would have preferred the enchiladas I was bringing over, but to him it was a matter of pride.      The...

Daisy, a friend of mine, recently asked if my father still offers me words of wisdom.      I had to think about that.      I came to the conclusion that any words of wisdom my father offers me are usually in the form of hindsight.      In other words, if I were to bump my head on a low-hanging bar, my father would then tell me, "Watch out for that bar."      If I stepped on something sharp and painful on the floor, he'd caution, "I forgot to tell you, I put that there."      Just the other day, when I complained that my stomach was upset, he told me, "You shouldn't eat like a pig."      For the record, I don't eat like pig.      My father's not much of a talker, but one thing I've noticed as he's gotten older is that he's more concerned over what his legacy is going to be, how he's going to be remembered.  ...

My brother and I were pretty rambunctious kids.      How rambunctious?      Well, in the Bible, I’ve heard it says, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.”      Let’s just say that the two of us gave our parents plenty of reason not to spoil us.      Let me give you an example. When I was still in single digits age-wise, I saw a movie about time travel and decided to build a time machine. This consisted of my getting an oven rack that, for some reason, was discarded in our backyard. I took it, then went into the kitchen to get my mother’s roll of Reynolds Wrap aluminum foil. I covered each metal wire with the aluminum foil, including the thicker wire frame. I found an extension cord, also discarded in the backyard, and cut off the female end, exposing the copper wiring. I attached the exposed wiring of the extension cord to one corner of the rack.       I placed the re...

I had a headache and thought it might be because I hadn’t had my morning coffee.      “Maybe it’s a tumor,” my father helpfully suggested.      “It’s not a tumor,” I told him, wondering where I had heard that exchange before. When it came to me, I couldn’t help but think, “This is what my life’s become: a bad scene from a bad movie.”      When I was still working, I used to look forward to retiring. Little did I know back then I’d be spending it chauffeuring my father back and forth from his many doctor visits, most of which are unnecessary.      “You’re perfectly healthy,” one doctor even told him.      “That could change,” my father replied.      We were on our way back home from one such visit and I thought I’d pull in to the first fast food place I’d see and get myself a cup of something hot and black. Angela Bassett came to mind, but she wouldn’t fit in the cup.   ...

Living with my father has never been easy.     When it came to communicating, he went by the same motto as Clinton’s Army: Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell. He didn’t ask me anything, so I didn’t tell him anything. He was of the belief that children (especially his) should be seen, not heard. And, preferably, not even seen. It was enough for him to know we were around.     It was a different time. Let’s leave it at that.     And then my parents grew old, my mother passed away, and my father was diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s. When my family and I asked him to move in with us, I thought maybe things would be different. They weren’t. His first words when I tried to engage him in conversation were practically, “Don’t bother.”     Not too long ago, I walked into the great room and sat down. Not in my favorite chair, because my father claimed it the day he moved into my house, but in the sofa next to it. He was watchi...

Listen up, ladies.      The way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach, it's with the remote control. Let a man have control of the television set, and you'll have a very sedate beast.      At least that's the way it is with my father, and that's how I usually find myself sitting in the great room watching the premium baseball channel with him, instead of something more interesting, like Championship Knitting.      The cable company calls the MLB channel "premium," which is another word for expensive. It's not something I would purchase on my own, but my wife and I get it for my father because it makes him happy.      And keeps him out of trouble.      Speaking of trouble, my father has developed a bit of it when it comes to reading and understanding his bank and financial statements.  He's been diagnosed pre-Alzheimer's, and one of the symptoms is having a problem with numbers.     ...

I like cars.      What I don't like is going to a car dealership to look at them when I'm not in the market for one, but I'll do it anyway.      Why?      I've already told you: I like cars.      I like looking at them, I like seeing what new features the car companies continuously come up with, and I like imagining myself behind the wheel of one. Unfortunately, I don't care to deal with the salespeople. They're nice, don't get me wrong, but I don't like to waste their time.      When they come up to me, I'm quick to tell them I'm just looking, but I'm sure they hear that from everybody who goes in there to buy a car. No one wants to seem too eager to part with their money, I suppose. If the dealership is busy, they'll usually leave me alone. If it's not, then they don't.      Leave me alone, that is.      When I am in the market for a car, I...

Like I've told you, my grandson is at an age where he can talk, but is still too young to grasp certain concepts.        For instance, we were recently at the library. My grandson is a good-looking kid, and I'm not just saying that because he looks like me. Only his eyes are blue, whereas mine are brown.      "Where did you get those beautiful blue eyes!" the librarian, who had some pretty blue eyes of her own, asked him.      "They came with my face," he told her.     Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene     

"Growing up, my father was king of his castle, but now that he's moved into my castle, it's a constant elbow-nudge between us for that top spot, and my wife's no help, because she caters to him all the time," I explained.      "That's nice," the veterinarian said, but he really wasn't interested. "Now, what you want to do is lift the tail and, with your thumb and forefinger, squeeze here like this. That will express the anal glands."      My father's dog suffers from clogged anal glands, and, sadly, that was the only problem my vet had a solution for.      Later, when I complained to my buddy Maloney about it, he told me, "You think you have problems? My mother-in-law is always feeding our dog table scraps, no matter how many times I ask her not to. My dog's gotten so fat, he can't walk from the kitchen to the living room without taking a nap."      Good ol' Maloney. There's no problem I have that h...

My grandson is at an age where he can talk, but is still too young to grasp certain concepts.      For instance, when heard me refer to his great-grandfather, whom he calls Mac, as my father, he asked me, "Mac's your father?"      "That's right," I told him.      "And you're my grandfather?"      "That's also right."      "Then what... I mean..."      I knew what he was asking. He was just having trouble finding the words.      "Mac's your great -grandfather," I explained.      My grandson considered that.      "What's so great about him?" he wanted to know.      Raising My Father RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com JimDuchene.BlogSpot.com  American Chimpanzee @JimDuchene  

There's a book called The Secret.      It takes 198 pages and $23.95 of your dollars to tell you this one thing: If you want something, you only need to say it out loud, and it will be yours. There's something about the power of words that sets the universe in motion.      It must work, because it works for my father. He'll say, "I want a treadmill," and then my wife will say, "We need to buy your dad a treadmill," and, before you know it, he has his treadmill. That's the secret to The Secret, when you say something out loud, you need to say it in front of my wife.      Treadmills, once you get them home, are pretty simple to set up. Basically, you just unfold them.      "Well, would you look at that," my father said, looking at his new toy.      "Let me show you how you use it, dad," I told him, plugging it in.      "Be careful, son," he said, warning me.      I didn't t...

Last words are important.     You only have one chance to get it right. Get it wrong, and you’ll spend eternity thinking of all the things you should have said, just like you do when you’ve lost an argument with your spouse.     I bring this up because now that I have my elderly father living with me, I look at him and see myself in the future. He’s 98-years-old, so that’s not necessarily a good thing.      Gone are the days when I used to think I would live forever. Now I know that no matter how much weight I lift, how many miles I hike, or how many promises to God I make, I’m still going to get old and die.     And not necessarily in that order.      E verybody knows the famous words of Patrick Henry, who declared, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” Now those would be impressive last words under any circumstance, but, when he died in the comfort of his own home, his actual las...