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 ...

My father and I have just returned home from an appointment with his doctor.     He doesn’t drive any more. Since he now lives with me, I find myself chauffeuring him around to conduct his personal business. I always thought the older you got, the less you did. Apparently, that’s not the case. At least with my father. I’m always taking him here or there, doing this or that.     He’s closer to the end of his century than the beginning and has been diagnosed pre-Alzheimer’s. You might think that Alzheimer’s is something that happens to someone else, but don’t fool yourself, we’re all pre-Alzheimer’s. We just need to live long enough for it to catch up with us.     It's 11am. Still early. He's studying the medicine his doctor prescribed, and which we've just picked up from the pharmacy.     "Can you believe the price of this medication?" he asks.     Of course I can. I just p...

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.     ...