patience and hope

A gloomy presence has been hanging around me for days. I’ve tried to shrug it off a number of times but it keeps coming back. It catches me unawares sometimes, cleverly disguising itself and using others to reach me through their grief, but I’ve got it sussed and challenge its motives. With another Mother’s Day without my Mum and thoughts of my brother not being here for any more of my birthdays it would be much easier to let the gloom do its job and be miserable, read and listen to appropriately melancholy materials and wallow a bit but I’m choosing to write about Dad. After all this is his (our) space.

Dad’s been in respite in a lovely nursing home since 14 January. I failed to mention that in a previous post for no other reason than I chose not to. Don’t know why really.

A deterioration in Dad’s health after Christmas meant that he needed more care and even though I was trying hard to fill in the gaps it became unrealistic and exhausting. Respite was the answer to a prayer. It came as a relief to both Dad and I knowing that he would have round the clock care and I’d be able to sleep at night without worrying about him. The respite period was initially for two weeks … then three … four … now he’s decided to stay. Permanently. It seemed so straightforward in the end.

How is it going? Well apart from a few minor issues such as his top teeth going missing and the new ones that he’s waited 7 weeks for not fitting him as well as they should so they’re going back, then there’s getting acquainted with his new neighbours and all the different personalities (need I say more?) plus some of his clothes getting lost for weeks on end (now sorted) … all in all he’s pretty content and he likes the staff and surroundings very much. In fact, I’d say that even though he misses the familiarity of his flat and routine, he’s the most calm and relaxed he’s been for months. He mentioned today that as he’s got older he’s had to learn to be more patient. There’s no point in being anything other than that. Everything just takes longer these days but it usually comes right in the end. Being patient and hopeful has had a remarkable effect on him and, despite everything he’s been through this last year in particular, he’s now looking much better.

An important point in the day is watching the news (and CSI of course). Never missing the news means he’s bang up to date with all that’s happening around the world and can tell me all about it, well as much as can remember. Dad’s never had a problem expressing himself when it comes to politics so the government cuts are high on the agenda for conversation and, even though information being passed between us takes longer to process, it’s always good to talk.

Reassuringly Dad still likes pink shirts as well as the bright checked ones evidenced by recent purchases. Over the last few years he has steered clear of dark shades because they depress him (he says). New glasses means that he’s able to pick his horses on a Saturday and read his Bible again. Two things that don’t necessarily go together. We laugh.

Dad fancies a wee jaunt to the Isle of Skye when the weather picks up and I guess no-one can argue with that.

He will often be heard saying, “I know I’m alive when I hear the birds singing in the morning”.

And like that … the gloomy presence is gone.

Explore posts in the same categories: Caring, Dementia, Getting Old, Hope, Life, Parents, Spirituality

Tags: health, Hope, Life, old age, wellbeing

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