Upon reaching middle school age our children announce that we parents must walk a good twenty feet behind them and try not to embarrass them by acting related.
In our middle age we wish we could be twenty feet behind our elderly demented parents, but instead we are pushing them in their wheelchairs.
Desperately trying a new tack to entice my dad into a conversation, I asked him if he'd ever read Moby Dick. I said I'd just finished it, but it took four months to read on my Kindle. Dad said he'd never read it. He was wheeling his chair back and back out the door and into the hall. I made a spyglass gesture and said, "Ahoy, matey. If you keep backing up you will go right out the window, and splat onto "O" Street." He agreed, then announced in his loudest voice, "Speaking of whales, here comes..." the weekend LPN.
Turning beet red in embarrassment I tried to explain the great literature problem to the nurse while wanting to jump out the window. Dad has no filters at this point in his dementia. Any idea that pops into his mind gets blurted out of his mouth.
Sunday an aide accidentally spilled a paper cupful of water on Dad's lap when she was offering him a half dozen pills. Dad swore like a pirate. Today Dad spilled very hot coffee into his own lap. The burn is large and blistered. Don't know if Dad's swearing was creative, but I can guarantee it was oceanic in scale. I would gladly walk WAYYYY back!
© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder