Just fine!

Dad went off to bed tonight at 8.30 p.m.  He's been a wee bit more tired today and I know he'll sleep until at least 8 a.m. tomorrow so I don't worry about it when he does this.  The last two nights he's been up til almost pumpkin hour so I'm a bit glad of the rest myself.  It means I can relax my antenna for a while.

Before he got dressed this morning I noticed him scratching the back of his left shoulder.  He asked, "Is there something on me there?"  It was the Transdermal Patch that I apply every morning to one of the variable places on his chest, back or arms.  I try to place them without him really feeling me do it...while drying the designated area and just patting him with the patch at the ready and not making a fuss of sticking the thing onto him.  Why?  Because he just takes it off again and leaves it laying on whatever surface is nearby at the time.  I usually have to look for the 'used' one in the mornings and am mostly successful to find them at the side of his bed.  But I've found them floating in the dish water having fallen out of the empty tea mug.  I now know to check the mugs and dishes before putting them into the sink for washing!  The patches should stay...I was going to write 'in situ' but had second thoughts...I'm writing this blog and suddenly I think I'm a literary genius!  Get real Duffy...the patches should be left on in the same place for 24 hours.  He gets a patch on EVERY day, and EVERY day he'll ask me what it's for.  I tell him, "They're to help your memory dad.  I think we should ask for a refund!"

He's chuffed to bits with the new clothes he's been getting recently.  Shoes that slip on?  He can't believe it.  They are much lighter on his feet and help a great deal with his 'shuffling'.  "Best shoes I've ever had", he states.  So far, the jumper...shirt...even the troosers are all "the best I've ever had."

I try and take my dad out for a little while every day, unless it's pouring rain.  The weather has been reasonably kind to afford us a few trips to browse the shops, do some food shopping and go for the compulsory coffee and a bun.  I sit him where he can people watch although I am wary of his inability to keep certain opinions to himself...quietly!  I dread when I see a child act up and a parent struggle to control the behaviour.  "Skelp it's arse!" is his usual statement. 'Skelp' - to hit/slap in Scottish.  He says it too loud...in any language!

I decided this afternoon to tackle the garden shed which has been filled with boxes, bags, bags inside boxes, boxes inside more boxes, filled with STUFF!  My parents moved to this house only two years ago and all the 'stuff' they brought from their previous house was shipped here without sorting and anything that couldn't fit into the house basically has been thrown into the shed.  (Thank you mother!)

Although most of the stuff wasn't anything I could or would use, I did come across a huge box filled with photographs.  Mostly albums from years ago and some of more recent events, like great grandchildren.  My dad used to play bowls.  When I say play, he didn't really enjoy the game much.  My mother was the champion bowler, my dad went under duress!

There were a lot of photos of the Bowling Club.  There was one of him on his own so I showed it to him, telling him it was him.  He recognised himself but he couldn't tell me where he was in the picture.  The next photo was of him and my mother.  I asked, "Who is that you are with?"  "I don't know," he replied.  I show him another of my mother on her own.  "Do you recognise her here dad?" I ask again.  "No," he replies, "I know the face, I just can't think of the name."  So I tell him her name is Anne...still no flicker of recognition.  "Your wife dad."

He looks at me as if I'm daft then looks back at the photo.  "Imagine forgetting that," he said.  I told him not to worry about it.  I made some lame joke about her not being here anymore to chastise him for it and he smiled.  He commented on the clouds gathering in the sky but how nice a day it still was.  The photos already forgotten and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad.  Not for him, but for my mother...and me.

Columbo Series One got another round this evening while he had his ("bloody good!") dinner.  At the start of the first one, the potential murderer was arguing with a woman and my dad pipes up, "She's gonnae get hit oan the heed the noo!"  (translation for all those who don't speak Scottish Dad: the lady is about to be hit over the head any moment now)  I ask once again for nothing more than my own amusement, "Have you seen this before?"  ...and here it comes.  "No!"  Oh Lord give me strength.

As we sit together on the two seater reclining sofa, both of us with our feet up, I turn to find him staring right at me.  He asks me, "How are you doing?"  I smile and say, "I'm doing just fine dad, and you?"  "Aye, I'm fine".

Well that's all we need to be...just fine.