Getting Used To "The Dad" Chores

Thursday, 5 April 2007

Perhaps it's due to pregnancy hormones, or just due to the stress of 24/7 caregiving, or probably a combination of both, but I've noticed that my patience often runs thin with Dad. We've (me, my stepmom, brother, and uncle) all known that he is pretty demanding, especially being trapped in his own body. He knows what he wants, but he simply can't do it himself, so he will describe to you every step of the way how he wants something done, whether it be flipping him over the bed on his stomach so we can physically pound the mucus out of his throat (while one person holds the bi-pap mask in his nostrils, the other holds his torso and taps, and the other makes sure his arms are not squished and he is perpendicular on the bed with his toes not harmed) or how he wants his stomach rubbed when he's having a bowel movement, or how he wants his head scratched (and for how long) when he's being bathed.

After I feed Dad and get myself fed and showered, my late nights (when Jason is working) are spent brushing Dad's teeth (and I've already been properly trained on how to brush without his complaining), washing his face with a hot towel (not too hot, and not too cold, about 20 seconds in the microwave is fine), giving him his ten different pills (remember that he can take two small ones at a time, and one big one at a time), changing his bi-pap mask and his tubes, washing them in vinegar and water solution and airing them out, filling the humidifier up with water, and connecting all the correct tubes so that they won't snag during sleep, setting up the urinal in the bed with the bed angled so it won't spill its contents during sleep, putting the layers of blankets on him (and remembering he likes them tucked around his shoulders and toes, but not around his neck - also making sure his t-shirt is not close to his neck), pulling his left elbow out a little bit, setting up the wireless doorbell under his right index finger (just at the edge so he can push it, but not right on the center so that it depresses and makes the loud echoing bong throughout the house), situating a rolled up towel under the pillow to the right of his head so his head is straight, laying out his fingers flat so they are not curled, and then setting the timer on the TV for about an hour and a half, and finally changing the channel to his channel of choice.

After all of that is done, he probably will ask for the channel to be changed about two or three times, after Jay Leno, and he probably will have to pee once before bed. I usually get to bed on the couch next to him a little after midnight. Then, about 3 or 3:30 am, he wakes me to empty the urinal again.

Although I'm a light sleeper, I've gotten use to the drone of the bi-pap machine blowing air into his lungs, and well, I'm still trying to get used to the TV being on.

Needless to say, I don't get a lot of REM sleep. And sometimes I've even decided to eat something at 3 am because my stomach is empty. This first week back at work was tough though. I was yawning and exhausted from the moment I walked into my classroom at 7:30 am, and after eating and feeding Dad lunch, I often pass out for a nap (if I can get one in) in the afternoon. Chris is good about helping me with the dishes and laundry and is getting used to preparing his own dinner if I don't have the time or energy to cook (as often he gets home close to 9 pm from his two jobs and I'm often just fine with leftovers myself).

I have to admit though that I am getting cabin fever, and my brother and I now have to schedule our social plans around each other's schedules to make sure we have coverage for Dad. Just found out that Dad's friends Frank and Sharon are going to come and bring dinner tonight, so that's good. That means Chris and I can perhaps go out and spend some time together. It might be spent going grocery shopping, but at least I'll be getting out of the house, and it'll give me a couple hours' break from "the Dad" chores....until bedtime that is.

Thank goodness for Good Friday tomorrow.