Category Archives: old age
***Do not read this posting on an empty stomach… Actually, do not read on a full stomach either…. Perhaps the best advice is DO NOT READ THIS AT ALL…. You have been warned!!!!’
In life there are seasons. Some seasons last longer than others. Some seasons pass by without much happening whilst others can be at times quite turbulent.
For some people the seasons that they have to go through can be far more challenging, demanding and emotional than I may ever have to experience. They may have to face and deal with situations that go on for years.
This season that we find ourselves in as a family is only temporary. It will conclude sometime, maybe fairly soon, with one and then another sad day at West Herts Crematorium.
For many of us who are of a certain age, the issue of caring for elderly parents is a season that we now find ourselves managing our way through. I have frequently said that we are on a roller coaster ride, we will ride it to the end, but I wish I knew how long the ride was going to last.
My father in currently 91, suffering with Alzheimer’s, he spends his days between his hospital bed at home in his bedroom or sitting in his chair in the lounge. Sleeping the majority of the time, he no longer leaves home, rarely gets dressed and whilst the TV is on he is unaware of what is being shown.
Sadly, dad has lost so much weight over recent months that he looks like he could have recently been released from a concentration camp, he is frail and often unsteady on his feet.
Conversation with dad has never been a sport that he has excelled in and whilst he can still recall the Morse Code that he used when he served us as a nation during the wartime years, other conversation on the earlier parts of his current day will not engender a lengthy chat at all.
Personal care and toilet management can be a challenge and that is where this tale is centred.
What follows is just one episode, a snap shot of caring for elderly parents.
On this particular day, mum was staying at a local 5 star all-inclusive location called Watford General Hospital, I called in to see how dad was and as soon as I entered my old family home my nose told me that I was about to play the game that I have entitled as ‘hunt the poo’. Dad was actually in bed munching his Meals On Wheels and greeted me with his usual ‘Hello John’ and I was thinking either that dinner smells rank or there is a parcel somewhere needing to be found, addressed and tidied up.
Fortunately, the offensive area was located, the toilet area dealt with, bleached, floor cleaned and then I was starting to wash my hands in the bathroom when my father returned to the scene of the crime and entered the toilet for what I will call round 2.
Lets fast forward through the next few minutes to the point where I managed to walk my father into the bathroom as a fairly extensive clean up job was now required. Sometimes in caring for your elderly parents you just have to roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath and get on with it and this was most certainly one of those times.
I managed to get dad to stand at the sink to wash his hands and try and get his fingers clean after they had previously been very inquisitive as to what the contents of his pull up nappy were. This was basically what I will call distraction tactics whilst I knelt down behind him to assess the cleaning operation that was needed.
OMG! It was everywhere!
I lifted his pyjama top out of the way to start wiping his bottom when I realised that the task was greater than I first thought. For those whose nappy changing days revolve around a baby or toddler allow me to point out that a hairy backside brings a very different dynamic to the bottom cleaning experience. After I gave it a pretty good tidy up, my heart sank. There, right in front of me, staring straight at me was what appeared to be a large poo that was as I can best describe it, hanging there needing to be removed. Well, I was in for a penny, so I took another large breath and taking a firm grip attempted to remove the offensive object from its lodgings. It was at this point, accompanied by something of a yelp from my father that I discovered that the object was not at all what I had thought it to be, but instead I was pulling on my dads testicles.
Now you may laugh… Go on feel free… You may say your poor dad…. Listen, seconds later my father has no recollection of this experience at all – perhaps some small benefit of memory loss, instead feel sorry for me as I am left with this memory scarred on my memory for the rest of my days…
Anyway, maybe not as clean as I would have liked, I simply put a clean ‘Pull Up’ onto him, fresh pyjamas and had just managed to return him to bed when I received overwhelming proof that God is real. His carer arrived! Hallelujah! ‘Sorry I’m a bit late he shouted as he came up the stairs…’ ‘Sorry???, sorry???’ I replied ‘Don’t be sorry at all…. You are my Angel!’ Dad was then given the professional and dignified care that he deserved with a full shower and another change by a lovely man who deserves so much more than what I imagine may simply be close to minimum wage.
Caring for ageing parents is a season. A season full of challenges and experiences that we may wish we never had to face. But within these days, weeks, months or however long it lasts there are conversations, and in this case experiences that I am grateful to have had. Some make us laugh, others make us cry but we do them because they are Mum and Dad… Nuff said!