Going to the Doctors and the Diner
Interesting week it has been. Dad is much more mobile, and Mom is no longer as delusional as she was. Dad's use of the walker has declined. He's even folded it up! I discovered him bending over, quite nicely, picking something up off of the kitchen floor. When he saw me watching, though, he groaned just a little! And here, I thought my acting ability came from my Mom!
Mom had a UTI - if you remember, she was seeing children playing and bugs crawling. The litmus test was when she saw her reflection in the window this week, and knew it was herself! Woohoo! She also became a bit more steady on her feet, and knew where she lived. I'll take "Stratford" over "I don't know" anytime!
Thursday was doctor day. Dad to the podiatrist, Mom to the primary care physician. We set off to the podiatrist on the first really cold morning of the season. That meant gloves and winter coat for Mom. I got them ready for her so she was all set. When Dad saw her with her winter coat, he said, "Where's mine? I know I have one." So, off I went to find his coat...then I thought, wait. He's mobile!
"Dad, your coat is upstairs, in the extra basket." Off he went and got it himself! YES! Score one for me for the week!
I get them into Dad's new car, without hitting my Mom. Dad doesn't get that he has to watch her, and hold onto her when I back the car up to where they are waiting. No, he won't walk to where the car is parked. When he does that, I'll let him go back to driving. If he can't walk to where the car is parked, he can't drive.
We get to the first appointment - the foot guy - who my Dad says doesn't treat his help well! Me, being me, I said, "Then why do you keep going to him??" No answer. Yes, I push it and ask again..."Well, he's a good doctor. Just cheap." Is that old school talk or what?
Dad, of course, feels the need to share with everyone there that I am the Warden. I do embrace that title. It allows me leeway with my behavior I normally wouldn't have.
I get them back into the car, we go to Joe's for breakfast. Now all along this morning, Mom and I have asked Dad to COMB HIS HAIR! He really has a Mohawk look about him. We're sitting at Joe's and the light is coming from behind him, and I snap a shot of him, pop it onto Facebook. Immediately there are comments, and likes. Who doesn't like an Irish Italian Leprechaun with a Mohawk?
I show the comments to Dad, who says, "Where did you put that? Not on that Face thing! I don't want my name on that Face thing. They do crazy stuff to people on there, like viruses and stuff."
"What are you talking about???"
Mom is laughing crazily. She can't stop. He is all worked up, and the owner of the diner is ignoring him, taking care of his plate. Can't get Johanne ruffled about much! Meanwhile, I just keep reading the new comments to him, and he starts to preen just a little, so much so he gets his nerve back and says to a guy (about 30 or so, black, handsome), "Sir, no cell phones allowed." The guy turns around, takes off his hat, puts the phone in his pocket, "Sorry, sir." and then turned around and walked to where a pretty woman was waiting for him.
"Jeez, Dad, what did you say?" He told me what he said, with no apologies, and just laughed a little. By now, we've finished breakfast, and are getting ready to leave. Dad says, "Wait", so he gets up, gets his old man cane, and walks down to where the guy is having breakfast with the pretty woman, and has a long conversation with him. I'm giving the guy my I'm so sorry look, but he's actually OK (the stranger guy doesn't have to live with Dad!).
Turns out the guy was actually pretty interested in having a talk with Dad - saying to me afterward, "No one just talks to people anymore." No worries here, Sir!
Next appointment later on is Mom's physical. We wait a pretty long time - kids and old people really don't like to wait, and Mom is no exception. I try to distract her with an article on the marijuana industry. She was looking at the pictures, and I asked her if she ever smoked. "No, I was never really interested." Now, of course, she doesn't really have to.
Mom, it turns out, is doing very well, her weight is the same as it was last year, she has no skin breakdowns (a real issue in the past), and her vitals were all great. Doc said, "What's different? This is the first year there's been very little physical deterioration." I really liked hearing that, knowing the skin issues (she had picked at any scab, or little skin issue till it bled like crazy, and stopped when Dad went into the hospital) were a direct result of behavioral changes with regard to how we talk to her.
Between the two of them, I've realized I get my social skills (or lack there of) from both of them.
Mom had a UTI - if you remember, she was seeing children playing and bugs crawling. The litmus test was when she saw her reflection in the window this week, and knew it was herself! Woohoo! She also became a bit more steady on her feet, and knew where she lived. I'll take "Stratford" over "I don't know" anytime!
Thursday was doctor day. Dad to the podiatrist, Mom to the primary care physician. We set off to the podiatrist on the first really cold morning of the season. That meant gloves and winter coat for Mom. I got them ready for her so she was all set. When Dad saw her with her winter coat, he said, "Where's mine? I know I have one." So, off I went to find his coat...then I thought, wait. He's mobile!
"Dad, your coat is upstairs, in the extra basket." Off he went and got it himself! YES! Score one for me for the week!
I get them into Dad's new car, without hitting my Mom. Dad doesn't get that he has to watch her, and hold onto her when I back the car up to where they are waiting. No, he won't walk to where the car is parked. When he does that, I'll let him go back to driving. If he can't walk to where the car is parked, he can't drive.
We get to the first appointment - the foot guy - who my Dad says doesn't treat his help well! Me, being me, I said, "Then why do you keep going to him??" No answer. Yes, I push it and ask again..."Well, he's a good doctor. Just cheap." Is that old school talk or what?
Dad, of course, feels the need to share with everyone there that I am the Warden. I do embrace that title. It allows me leeway with my behavior I normally wouldn't have.
I get them back into the car, we go to Joe's for breakfast. Now all along this morning, Mom and I have asked Dad to COMB HIS HAIR! He really has a Mohawk look about him. We're sitting at Joe's and the light is coming from behind him, and I snap a shot of him, pop it onto Facebook. Immediately there are comments, and likes. Who doesn't like an Irish Italian Leprechaun with a Mohawk?
I show the comments to Dad, who says, "Where did you put that? Not on that Face thing! I don't want my name on that Face thing. They do crazy stuff to people on there, like viruses and stuff."
"What are you talking about???"
Mom is laughing crazily. She can't stop. He is all worked up, and the owner of the diner is ignoring him, taking care of his plate. Can't get Johanne ruffled about much! Meanwhile, I just keep reading the new comments to him, and he starts to preen just a little, so much so he gets his nerve back and says to a guy (about 30 or so, black, handsome), "Sir, no cell phones allowed." The guy turns around, takes off his hat, puts the phone in his pocket, "Sorry, sir." and then turned around and walked to where a pretty woman was waiting for him.
"Jeez, Dad, what did you say?" He told me what he said, with no apologies, and just laughed a little. By now, we've finished breakfast, and are getting ready to leave. Dad says, "Wait", so he gets up, gets his old man cane, and walks down to where the guy is having breakfast with the pretty woman, and has a long conversation with him. I'm giving the guy my I'm so sorry look, but he's actually OK (the stranger guy doesn't have to live with Dad!).
Turns out the guy was actually pretty interested in having a talk with Dad - saying to me afterward, "No one just talks to people anymore." No worries here, Sir!
Next appointment later on is Mom's physical. We wait a pretty long time - kids and old people really don't like to wait, and Mom is no exception. I try to distract her with an article on the marijuana industry. She was looking at the pictures, and I asked her if she ever smoked. "No, I was never really interested." Now, of course, she doesn't really have to.
Mom, it turns out, is doing very well, her weight is the same as it was last year, she has no skin breakdowns (a real issue in the past), and her vitals were all great. Doc said, "What's different? This is the first year there's been very little physical deterioration." I really liked hearing that, knowing the skin issues (she had picked at any scab, or little skin issue till it bled like crazy, and stopped when Dad went into the hospital) were a direct result of behavioral changes with regard to how we talk to her.
Between the two of them, I've realized I get my social skills (or lack there of) from both of them.
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