Lord, Have Mercy On My Tired Soul

It all started with a flat tire. I figured Dad would just call AAA in the next day or so…more like weeks later because he never wants to call anyone for anything. Ugh. My DIL sent someone over to change the tire for us the next morning. I wasn’t even awake yet but that’s ok, I knew I could take a nap later. So, here’s this skinny girl out there trying to get the lug nuts off and one just won’t budge. I was shocked that she could get any of them off, honestly. Well, she wasn’t able to get that last one so she left. 

The aggravation started when Dad decided to call AAA. Not that hard, right? Well, he called the tire shop in town first which was ridiculous because he would still have to call AAA to get it covered and he knew this. I told him that, too. The guy at the tire shop told him the same thing but if the lug nut was stripped then his shop had no way of getting it off. Seriously? So, Dad calls AAA. But he doesn’t. He ends up calling the tire shop again because that’s the business card he had in his hand. I asked him, “Are you calling AAA,” and he nods his head. He gets the tire shop and they tell him again that he has to call AAA first. Good grief. 

He calls AAA, finally. The line was busy the first time. Dad sat there for 3 minutes listening to the busy signal. I could hear it from where I sat. I timed him. After 3 minutes I asked him why he was listening to the busy signal. He said he was waiting to see if someone would realize he was trying to call. I said, “Dad, it doesn’t work that way!” Anyway, he calls again and gets a real person. He explains the situation with the lug nut. They said they would make some calls to find the right shop to do the job, and they would call him back within the hour. That’s good, right? But Dad gave them the wrong address and the wrong phone number! Before he could hang up I told him to verify the address and phone number. I could hear the woman’s voice on the other end and she repeated the address and phone number correctly. At least they had it on file correctly. In the meantime, someone else shows up, who Dad believes to be from a shop that AAA sent. It wasn’t. We found out the gal that was here first thing had called a friend of hers who lived in the area. He was an older man. 

While Dad was outside talking to the older man, the phone rang but I didn’t get to it in time. It was another tire shop that AAA contacted. The man left a voicemail and said he was on his way. I would have called him back right away but I wasn’t sure if the older man would get that blasted lug nut loose or not. So, I waited. 

The older man managed to get the lug nut loose and put the donut on the car. Before Dad even got back in the house, another guy showed up from the first shop that Dad had called. Dad just assumed that AAA called them. (They told Dad that they had no way of removing a stripped lug nut, so why send someone out anyway?) 

When Dad came inside, I told him about the call from Ed’s tire shop and he said, “He was just here.” I said, “No. It couldn’t have been because the call came in when the older guy was out there talking to you.” He told me he didn’t know that guy’s name but it was someone from Ron’s. I told him that not enough time had passed for Ed’s Shop guy to travel 30 miles. He just wasn’t getting it. He kept saying, “The guy from Ron’s was just here.” I told him again, “It was ED’s Shop that called, Dad. Not Ron’s.” He said, “Oh.” Finally getting it. I told him he’d better call him if the tire situation was taken care of, so they don’t waste their time and gas. He said he would but he had no way of knowing their number. Holy crap on a cracker. I gave him the number from the voicemail and he called. Good grief. 

It was suggested to me that I take over and make all of the calls, getting Dad’s permission to represent him. I would do that but Dad needs to keep his mind working. He does absolutely nothing all day but watch tv. He washes the few lunch dishes we have most days and helps with the laundry but that’s not exercising his brain. I am having a hard time taking care of myself, let alone him and everything else. Dad can’t let his brain go! It’s getting worse and worse. He won’t read a book. He won’t do crossword puzzles. He won’t do jigsaw puzzles with me. He won’t get involved with other seniors. He says, “I hate old people.” He won’t do anything but sit there and watch the news, all day long. I could make it less stressful on myself but is that helping him? 

I won’t put Dad in a nursing home unless and when it’s necessary. I can’t help but think about when I put my Granny in a nursing home. She was there for 2 weeks and was having a good time but then she got sick and was in the hospital for about a week. When she went back to the nursing home, she was there for a few days and then she passed away. I know in my heart that she got sick because she wasn’t used to being around so many germs. Dad is rarely around anyone but me. Nursing homes are chock-full of germs. I know. I used to work in one!

There are other things I/we could do like getting someone in to help but in this old house that’s damn near falling apart? That’s all I need, is some do-gooder coming in and reporting to Senior Services that we have no business living in this house. Our new house isn’t anywhere near being completed, so where the hell would we go? Are they going to foot the bill to not only find a new house for us to live in but move us in as well? Hahaha.

Well, as Granny used to say, “It’ll all come out in the wash!” Until then, I’ll just fake it ’til I make it, as they say or just grin and bear it.

Taking Care of Others

I’m not feeling it this morning, but I promised myself I’d try harder to write every day. So, here I sit trying to think of what to write about. Ok, I think I’ve got it.

I’ve been taking care of other people since I was around 13 years old. I watched my little sisters first. I didn’t mind so much because my mother (as selfish as she could be) never took advantage of having a built-in babysitter.

When I was a little older, I started watching other people’s children. I watched so many kids over the years. I even went into Early Childhood Development and got my first “real” job as an Instructional Aide before I finished high school. I was working mostly with kids who were nearly at grade level in some subjects but needed help getting caught up with the rest of their class. I loved it but I resigned to start my own family.

When I had my kids, I still watched other kids. In fact, I started my own in-home Day Care. I had to do something to pay the rent and put food on the table because my ex couldn’t be bothered going out to find a job. He said he wouldn’t take just any job… Of course not. He’d rather me do all the work or for us to starve and be evicted. Geez.

Then we moved to Missouri and I got a part-time job at the Elementary school, mostly subbing for other aides who were out for one reason or another. There I was taking care of others again.

I’ve taken care of my nieces and nephews off and on throughout the years. I loved seeing them often but they are all grown now and I never see any of them.

Back in the 90s, I landed a job at the local nursing home, taking care of the elderly. I was CNA (Certified Nurses Aide), not very glamorous I know. I took classes to become a Medication Technician and was certified after a few months of intense study. That led to more responsibility and worked my tail off taking care of the residents of the facility. I worked for several years and I enjoyed the job for the most part but I felt I had to quit because the administration kept jerking us around; they’d change our shifts from days to nights or evenings to days, with no consideration whatsoever. They’d tell us xyz is our responsibility and then change it to something else without even telling us. I had enough and told them I was done.

For the past 10 years, I have been looking after my dad, which was the plan when we first came out here. It’s rough. I have my own health issues but still have to look after Dad and I don’t mind because I signed up for this. His health is declining and I don’t have a clue as to how I’m supposed to keep this up alone, with no help. My family says I should get someone to come in and help but neither Dad nor I want a stranger coming in. I’ve heard stories about older people getting help and then having the help go to Social Services and report that “Those people shouldn’t be living in that place. It’s not safe for them.” They have good intentions but what happens is that the people are forced out of their home. Truth is, maybe we shouldn’t be living in this dump but the new house is not finished and we have nowhere else to go.

Anyway, here I am barely able to care for myself and I’m still taking care of someone else. I look forward to the day I won’t have to take care of anyone but myself, but at the same time I don’t like the idea of losing my dad. But by then I probably won’t be able to care for myself, landing my ass in that nursing home with someone else taking care of me. Ugh.