No hiding place!

"How are you getting on darling?"  my dad asks.

He's sitting on his recliner watching TV while I busy myself on my laptop in another corner of the room.  I know he thinks I'm his wife.  I have no name...but nor does she.  I'm a relative, a familiar presence.

"I'm doing fine dad" I answer.

He can't hide the confusion etched on his face but he smiles at me anyway.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" I say.

"I wouldn't mind," he replies.

My dad's new 'thing' is to try and pick up Poppy and carry her in his arms.  This started out to be first thing in the morning as she greeted him but can now happen at any time of the day as she jumps around his feet looking for a playmate.

"Up you come dug!" he'll say.

I have always been in the room when it happens and every time it does, Poppy squeals.  She has a very tender spot under her armpit.  Do dogs have armpits??  I'm sure you know what I mean.  I don't know whether he is unintentionally pulling her leg outwards or whether his fingers are just pushing in tender places.  Either way, I can't bear the noise Poppy makes and I can't chastise.  I have to remain calm as I tell dad to leave her on the floor because she is too heavy for him.  He would never be able to pick her up, straighten up and walk forward towards a chair as I could if I cared to do so.  I spend a LOT of my time preventing him from stooping forward because he has fallen over too many times in the past...once in the first week I moved in with him and he still bears the mark of a wounded elbow today.  I can't leave my tea mug on the floor (on a coaster I hasten to add) as he spots it when he re enters the room after visiting the toilet and will make towards it, bending down to pick it up "just tidying up."  🙈

As soon as he walks through the living room door in the mornings, I'm 'on'.  My radar and senses are severely tested.  Sometimes I just want to sit for 5 more minutes.  Sometimes I just don't want to hear my own voice.

We are waiting on the delivery of a new collapsible wheelchair today.  One that folds from the back as well as the sides and with small wheels that I don't need to fill with air at the petrol station.  I've struggled long enough with the other one which had self propelling wheels (WHAT WAS I THINKING??) and no safety belt.  I NEED a safety belt.

Why is it when people see the wheelchair coming towards them they run across it's pathway causing me to make an 'emergency stop'?  I walk at the same pace as anyone else who isn't pushing a chair, but stopping abruptly has a delayed reaction as the weight in the chair which has WHEELS continues to roll forward a little before it comes to a complete stop.  I'm usually met by someone waving their hands at me, mouthing "sorry!"

"Arse hole!" may be heard out loud.  I don't say it, although I always might think it.  The one thing I cannot control is my dad's mouth.  In these instances, I don't really want to.

I take my dad out for coffee regularly and sometimes lunch.  Coffee times go without issue mostly although when it's time to leave, I sometimes have to 'fight' with his hands as he tries to pull at the brakes or I have to get him to keep his feet still as he tries to flip the footplates upwards with his shoes.

Yesterday, I took him out for lunch.  I took him to the Food Court in the Shopping Centre where clearing your table is expected when you are finished.  I always sit near to the disposal area so that I can keep an eye on my dad.  Yesterday, although I was a few steps away from our table, my view of him was obscured for as long as it took me to swipe all the contents of the tray down a hole and place the tray on top of the others gathered there.  Enough time for my dad to push himself away from the table and flip both footplates upwards.  I reach him just as he has a grasp of both armrests and in the process of propelling himself out of the chair.

"DAD!  You're in your own chair.  There's no need to move.  Sit back down and I'll get you sorted," I tell him.

"Och!" he said.  "So I am.  Silly buggar."

Today, the new wheelchair will arrive with a safety belt and brakes which are situated at the bottom rear of the chair which can be applied using my foot and cannot be reached by my dad.

I am also awaiting the arrival of his new jacket.  It's padded, for warmth you understand, and has pretty straps attached to each sleeve which  wrap around his back while he sits comfortably with his arms crossed and are fastened tightly carefully behind him!

The weather isn't so great today but we'll venture off out anyway.  Dad's watch has stopped and needs a new battery.  He looks at his watch constantly so when he realised yesterday that the second hand was still, he took it off and set it on the table beside his recliner.

"My watch has stopped," he said.

"It needs a new battery dad.  We'll get one tomorrow when we're out," I said.

5 minutes later.

Dad picks up his watch from the table and inspects it.  "I don't know what's wrong with this watch?" he says.

"It needs a new battery dad.  We'll get one tomorrow," I answer.

"Oh, okay," he says.

5 minutes...maybe 6 later.

"My watch is needing wound up," he says.  "It's no working!"

"It needs a battery dad.  We'll get it fixed tomorrow," I say.

More than 5 minutes pass.  This is looking good....until.

"I don't know what's wrong with this watch," he says.

😫