It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything. It’s partly because I don’t really have anything good to write about.
These past few years, the long, dark days of winter have dampened my mood. I’ve also gotten way out of shape. When I’m stressed, I tend to eat more. When I’m at my dad’s place, I snack like crazy. It doesn’t help that my sister leaves a lot of junk food around. Dinners there are usually take out food. No one really has time to cook. I downloaded a fitness app only to find out how far out of shape I’m in. I don’t sleep enough. I know I’ll pay dearly for this.
My dad’s health is declining rapidly. We used to celebrate minor victories. He ate well. He slept well. He had a bowel movement. There wasn’t any pain. It’s hard to find those minor victories now. I stayed over the other night. I told my sister to go to bed and she did around 1 AM. My dad called out frequently when he is asleep – not deep sleep. I had to keep checking to see if he was really calling out or just talking in his sleep. He did wake up a couple of times and I gave him some water. I would hold his hands to give him some assurance and told him to rest and go back to sleep. I think the hardest part is watching him grimacing in pain when he is being changed. I finally got to nap for an hour around 4. My sister woke up a few times to check. She eventually got up around 5. It’s like this for her every night. I left the house just as the rush hour started. When I got home, I fueled myself with caffeine to get me through the day. My brother came over later that day with food.
Is this heroic? No. I’m just doing my bit to help. I have no idea how previous generations handled all of this. How do the people living around the poverty line manage with elder care and dementia?
Writing is one of the few things that keep me sane. I wish I had more time for this.