The old lady called this morning wondering what we were going to do today. I told her whatever she wanted. I arranged to take them to a deli for good soup at four. When I got to the apartment my father was in a real pretty state. All dressed up and gunning for bear. I guess he thought I was the target. He was lucid as anything wanting to know about his money and where it was and what did I need this or that check for and naaaaassssssty! We got to Mort's and he looked at the five kinds of soup on the menu and didn't want any of them. He wanted that good soup he likes.
So after making a scene at the deli, we got back in the car and I drove from Golden Valley to Saint Paul to take him to Dixie's on Grand. We had a fabulous waiter and the old man ate an entire bowl of South Carolina Crab Chowder. It occurred to me to order some to go. Now he has two portions at home and I don't have to drive fifteen miles each way to get him soup.
On the way home the old lady said, "Well, as long as he is happy." I agreed. Just like a rotten child who gets his own way by throwing a tantrum or acting ugly, so can the old man. He makes the atmosphere around him toxic with dissatisfaction. My challenge is not to get into it with him. My challenge is to be that CALM parent who points out that whining boys don't get anything and how does he ask?
I admit to getting pissed at the restaurant, pointing out to him he asked for soup, what the hell did he want? He was able to say exactly what he desires. He wants everyone to leave him alone and let him sleep as long as he likes and stop telling him he needs to get up and live. He wants to be miserable and suffer. He's dying and he wants to get on with it and, oh, oh, oh, he is going to linger and linger and make us all as miserable as he is. I just know it.
He has the opportunity to look around him and appreciate all that is wonderful in this creation. He can look around and see the amazing quality of care he is getting. If he wants to be miserable, so be it. If he doesn't want to go to meals or activities, I've told the old lady to go alone. He is not going to push my buttons. I am going to wear a zipper and not let him get at my control. I am determined to do my best for him and I hope that somewhere in this eleventh hour he makes whatever peace with whatever he believes in. My desire remains the same today as when I took on this task, to do everything needed so that when he dies I have no regrets that I could have done more. And if the Creator hears my prayer, I will never have to deal with him again in any other life.
Not a saint, and I hope, never a martyr, just a daughter.
No comments:
Post a Comment