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Is This My Last Father’s Day?
Dad, failing health, and dementia
That’s kind of what one end of the kitchen island looks like. That and several pairs of reading glasses and sunglasses, all his. His pillbox is twice the size of that one as he needs AM and PM meds. I fill the box in the middle of the night while he sleeps. It’s the only time I can do it in peace.
He wants to know what every pill is, what it’s for, how often does he take it, and who prescribed it. Every. Single. Time. In the meantime, I’m trying to concentrate. I don’t want him to miss a dose of something or, God forbid, I drop two pills in one slot instead of one pill.
I do a lot of stuff nowadays between 2am and 5am so I can do them without playing 50 Questions. I know he can’t help it. I also know that I’m doing the best that I can but with no breaks (I’m here 24–27. He fired everyone else.) I literally can’t get away from it all.
Right now he’s out with his OD (other daughter). Don’t get me started about her back road, know nothing a$$. She has POA but has him spend $190 on an iPhone because he’s complaining he can’t figure out how to use the $50 Android that he’s had for years. All she had to do was take it back to Best Buy, pull one of the phone guys to the side, tell them what’s going on and then let them have the phone.
