Caregiving Lesson

I've learned that mistakes can often be as good a teacher as success.

Jack Welch

Dad doesn't do a lot these days. Standing for any length of time hurts his back so he sits. He eats. He does crossword puzzles and he sleeps. In fact he sleeps so much during the day he's started waking up around 3am unable to go back to sleep. Anyone who has lain awake during those early morning hours knows there is nothing to do but recite multiplication tables, invent a health care system that will really work, or worry.

My father is a creature of habit. After doing the same thing for several days in a row his body and mind are pretty much trained to continue doing that thing without giving it any thought. Depending on what the "thing" is the habit can either good or bad. Drinking a Manhattan before dinner or eating chocolate ice cream after dinner every night come hell or high water is considered a habit that has no ill consequences.

However, Dad is less than comfortable lying awake staring at the ceiling watching the big red digital numbers change three nights in a row. Last night he decided to nip this burgeoning habit in the bud. Knowing that giving up some of his afternoon sleep time would also mean that I might have to give up some of mine I suggested a pharmeceutical remedy. Perhaps a Tylenol PM might would help him sleep through the night.

"Someone told me not to take Tylenol," he countered.
"Oh?" I questioned, "how come?"
Dad ends the conversation with "I don't know, but I know I'm not going to take it."

"Okay, what about the sleeping medication provided by Hospice?"
"When did they prescribe that?"
"When they threw out all your outdated meds."
"Oh, let me see it." As if seeing the bottle or the pink capsule would help to make the decision whether to take it or not.

"I think I'll try it," he says as he pops the pill in his mouth, takes a slug of water, throws his head back and swallows.
"Good night, Dad. Sleep well. I love you."

Walking down the hall after my shower this morning I glance into Dad's room to see if he's awake. He's out cold, but in the recliner chair next to the bed, not tucked in where I left him last night.

"Why are you in the chair?" I ask knowing it's a dumb question.
"That sleeping pill worked too well," he croaked in a Zombie-like stupor.
"I peed all over everything." And with that bit of information he went back to sleep.

Grabbing up soaking wet underpants, sheets and blankets I begin my day. I find myself staring at the clock. The thumping of the blanket in the washer keeps time with the minute hand as it ticks off the time. The buzz of the dryer informing me the sheets are dry startles me from my reverie.

I hope this isn't going to become a habit.

Caregiving Lesson Learned: Unless you want to spend the day cleaning the bed from the mattrass up don't suggest sleeping pills. Maybe a cup of warm milk would be more appropriate.


Learning as I go,
Merry ME