Donna and I are in Missouri, visiting with Dad and Lois . . . and the rest of my family, which over the years has become an extended one, but not so extended I can’t keep track of names, and, more important, who’s related to who (with lots of help from Donna, naturally). When I’m in Missouri with my family, I can’t help wondering how it’s going to feel, getting old in the desert heat of Arizona, so far away.
Eh, that’s a gloomy way to start an entry. I’ll start over.
My home town, Cape Girardeau, is on the Mississippi south of St Louis. Last Saturday I read that Cape had closed its flood gates. There’d been flooding along the Missouri, which feeds into the Mississippi at St. Louis. The gates are open now but the river remains impressively high, right up to the bottom of the flood wall. Score one for Arizona.
Dad’s having a rough time sleeping. He’s barely eating, down to skin and bones, always uncomfortable. His wake and sleep cycle is about one hour on/one hour off. At night he alternates between his office, where he listens to audio books, and two beds: the regular one in his bedroom and a rented hospital bed in the living room.
He gets around the living room, bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom with a walker and wheelchair. When he uses the walker he needs to have someone close behind him in case he starts to fall. Standing up takes most of his strength. But all in all he’s still a happy man.
Lois, Dad’s second wife (actually, my step-mother, though I feel odd calling her that . . . Donna and I married in our teens and were in our mid-30s when Dad and Lois married), dotes on Dad and has become his full-time caregiver. Dad loves Lois, and she him, and there’s always company in the house: friends, relatives, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, children-in-law, you name it. When Dad’s time comes, he’ll be surrounded by family, all of whom love him. We should all be so fortunate. Not many of us are.
I work with elderly veterans at the VA hospital in Tucson. Too many of them spend their last years alone. Some have outlived everyone they cared for, some are estranged from family and friends. Whatever Dad did, he did it right.
There’ll be another big family gathering tonight, and I suppose Donna and I are on tap to cook, but we’re hankering for ribs (score one for Missouri) so we’ll probably send out.
That’s the news from Cape Girardeau. Company’s here and My Son Paul (that would be me) needs to make an appearance. More soon.