This week, my precious father nearly lost his life again. Save for the marvels of modern medicine, he would not be with us today. Once again, his heart rate skyrocketed to nearly 300 and he lost consciousness. It was his internal defibrillator that saved his life. At his doctor's appointment the following day, they told him that he should stop driving... they might as well have told him to stop breathing.
My dad's been a day-tripper for as long as I can remember. Whenever things got rought at work or at home, he'd jump in his truck and take off for the Eastern Shore, or one of the state parks in North Carolina -- or go for a ride on the beach in Corolla. It's his way of escaping and relieving stress. Not only has this outlet been taken from him, but now he'll have to give up his part-time job as well (which I think he does just to escape my mom's incessant chatter). You see, he drives hearses and flower trucks for a local funeral home and spends days collecting and delivering death certificates.
It is so difficult to watch the man to whom you've always looked up -- the one on whom you've depended to do the hard stuff -- like open things, move things, and fix things -- become feeble and dependent. My heart is just breaking for him -- he's fiercely independent and I fear that losing his independence will leave him devoid of joy and purpose, causing him to deteriorate long before his time. I'm not ready for that... not yet... not ever.
My Daddy's broken and I wish I could fix him.
4 comments:
Hugs to you and to your Dad... this is tough stuff and like you, I hate not being able to make it all better. (((hugs))))
Seeing our parents age is hard for them, and hard for us. We see what we fear most for ourselves. Lack of control, lack of say.
This may sound odd, but one of the most comforting things I've done for myself has been to be more involved with elder care in my area - seeing people who (gracefully) accept their increasing limitations - and seeing how others around them thusly accept their own situation - opened my eyes to how *I* want to someday react to those harsh realities.
One attendant once told me that the way she's seen good integration is when cheerful abled elderly volunteer with the unabled, that they then appreciate their own facility, and develop an acceptance of their own inevitable decline.
it's the life cycle, unavoidable. none of us like it, but none of us can stop it, either.
Hopefully your dad will find a way to appreciate what faculties he still has, and enjoy them to their fullest.
I'm sorry to read this....it's hard to see our parents get old, and have to give up the things they enjoy. ((((HUGS))))
Nancy-palp
thats got to be tough for him, but i think its sound advice. If he had an attack behind the wheel and hurt someone, it would affect him much worse than this. Be thankful you still have alittle more time to enjoy your dad. These are now bonus days/years thanks to modern technology.
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