I call my dad daily, and I never know what the call will bring. Even though his memory consistently and exceedingly slips away from him, his imagination makes up for what his memory lacks.
Yesterday when I called, he told me he didn’t have time to talk. He was too busy. Now what could an old geezer have going on while hanging out in the Alzheimer’s unit of a nursing home? It is anyone’s guess. How could he be too busy to take a phone call? Though my curiosity was certainly peaked, I knew there was no point in trying to find out. I certainly didn’t have his attention. So I simply told him that I called to wish him a good evening and that I would call again tomorrow. He told me that would be better, and he would expect my call tomorrow.
The next day when I called, my dad said they (he and other residents) were trying to decide if they should go home. I told him that dinner would be served in about 45 minutes and so perhaps they should eat dinner and then decide what to do. He was surprised to find out about dinner and asked me to wait a minute while he told them. He set down the phone and announced with great importance, “They are going to serve dinner soon.” We both were resolute that the situation was now in hand and said goodbye. I pictured a revolting group of oldsters, set to leave in mass exodus with my dad as ringleader. Luckily, they were easily placated by the idea of dinner being served.
Busy indeed.
Oh PG, this reminds me of the Twilight Zone episode where the old folks all manage to revert to their childhood and run away. Somehow he manages to have an Alice in Wonderland existence despite it all. Bless his heart. I hope he had a good dinner that night.
WC
If he could only remember the dinner, I could ask, but I’m afraid that dinner has joined a myriad of long forgotten other dinners. After all, he was surprised to learn that dinner was going to be served. I know what you mean about the Twilight Zone episode. I guess what I’m learning here is that when all else is failing, you still have your imagination and its creative outlet. I’m just glad that he seems to be having fun, drumming up excitement any way he can.
~ PG
I remember that episode of Twilight Zone.
I like your writing, by the way, and look forward to reading more.
I can relate, PG.
I remember many days when my mother would call on a cordless phone while barricaded in the closet because ‘someone was there to get her’.
Though I miss my mother terribly, I don’t miss those days.
Someday you may read about the day they lost my father at the assisted living facility. Amazing story.
Hang in there. You know where I am if you need someone to rant to.
Be safe, be well…
~m
I’ve been visiting blogs tonight, trying to catch up on what everyone’s doing. Seems like a lot of bloggers are frustrated with communications or conversational difficulties with their parents and grandparents this week. But I wonder if the parents and grandparents feel the same way? I think it’s just important that you called your dad, and not really that important what the conversation was about. I know it’s hard, though, especially when you’re long distance.
Thanks Kenzie. I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog.
Michael–Boy, that must have been tough. I can certainly understand how you don’t miss those days. Thanks for your support Michael. I really appreciate it.
Mona, I think you’re right. I’ve decided too that it doesn’t much matter what I talk about with my dad. What’s important is that he knows I’m thinking about him and that I care.
~ PG