A Moment in the Day

Part I: Genie in a Bottle

Snippets of Time From Our Days

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Life is easier when it is simplified—with predictable routine.

Dad typically has a “continental breakfast” in his leather recliner in our downstairs family room every morning. When he finishes his breakfast of…?

… guesses anyone? C’mon now y’all—if you are paying attention, you KNOW what he had for breakfast today. And yesterday. And the day before that. And likely tomorrow. So, NO bonus points for this question. I no longer present choices—it’s just known as “the usual.” Sometimes even requested the night before:

Dad: “I’ll just have the usual tomorrow morning.”

Me: Okay dad. That’s 12 hours away but good to know. How about we have dinner tonight first?

So Kristin has to keep us stocked. We freeze them so grabbing one and microwaving for 90 seconds gives me time to start his foamed art… what again?

Anyway, when he finishes, and if I’m somewhere else in the house, he simply says out loud, “Kert, I’m finished.”

Herein is the point of today’s brief post (btw: the aim of these “Moment in the Day” posts will be to simply let you in on brief snippets of our beloved Elder’s days):

I carry a monitor with me at all times and his monitor is an open mic. I sometimes feel like “the genie” who magically appears when summoned. Check that: I’ve TRAINED him to treat me like his personal genie: aka masseuse, chef, baker, chauffeur, consigliere, waiter, medic, accountant, secretary, manicurist, pedicurist, translator, typist, mailman, workout trainer, towel boy, lifeguard, barista, straight man, counselor, therapist, Jeeves, Alexa, valet, manservant, barber, cabin boy, “Riker to his Jean Luc” (catch the reference anyone?)…. Okay, you get the point.

“Make it so,” are my standing orders.

Like I’ve said: Club Med Lenseigne.

Actually, I wouldn’t want it any other way. As Kristin and I envisioned what our life had to be like with Dad in it 24/7/365, we knew we had to have a way for him to get our attention when he needed it. And to make it as simple as possible. Buttons, bells, ringers, and the like didn’t seem to make sense so we purchased these multifunction walkie talkies, which are great. So, Dad’s open mic transmitter is always in the same room he is especially when another person might not always be present—typically, this means his bedroom at night and in the family room during the day. He just needs to say something.

Even when I’m outside doing yard work, and when he’s not with me, I’ll have my walkie on me. Mine allows for two-way communication.

“Kert.”

Yes Dad. Over.

“I need you.” (Translation: “I need to go to the bathroom.”)

Houston, we may have a problem.

Then, just as if the side of Aladdin’s Lamp was rubbed, Dad’s genie (or, as it’s more commonly known around these here parts: “me!”) appears magically out of his thin air.

He’s become WAY too used to this!

Eldering 101:

So…where’s the Elder lesson in this?

I think it comes through Dad’s gratitude. Elder’s recognize when other’s have provided a kindness to them and they ALWAYS insure that act of kindness is recognized. This is SUCH a great model and teaching for the rest of us. Elders have a strong sense of “other” and have an intuitive understanding of one’s impact upon that “other.” Dad never abuses the fact I’m on 24/7 “on call” status (I joke that one day I’m going to get a t-shirt that reads “This body is on call 24 hours a day.” Like what some service organizations do with signage on their vehicles.) He knows his life has impacted ours; he’s never taken that for granted. And he will apologize if the “call for service” is outside of what we’ve come to expect as normal or routine.

And he ALWAYS, and still, thanks us for it all.

This is why there has been no resentment at all when he’s needed help or support. Of course this is also coupled with the fact I know enough about how brains work, and am becoming a quasi-expert on how one brain “on Parkinson’s” works, to not hold even the most challenging of times personally against him. (This, you’ll remember, is when we “Look for God,” when we “Look for LOVE.” And then we find it.)

Dad’s innate kindness and gratitude are reasons why Kristin and I, to a large degree, and almost always, feel so blessed that it is THIS man who is living with us to end his days. We know this may change as Parkinson’s continues to have its way with Dad’s brain; but, for now, just as he’s always been, up TO now, Dad is incredibly kind and gracious. It’s his True Nature—his core character. WHO Dad has been has deposited an awful lot of chips in his bank account such that he can make withdrawals without needing to worry about cashing them all in anytime soon. He’ll have more than enough to take him to the end. (We just have to stay stocked in vegan chocolate chip/peanut butter cookies. No cookies?—all bets called off!)

So, yeah Dad, go ahead and rub that lamp. Anytime you need to.

Just keep being you.

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T plus 43 days and counting.