Category Archives: NaBloPoMo2011

Sunday Thoughts are being preempted by The Tree Guy.

The old oak tree that lived in a small area between the three driveways died this past summer. I had The Tree Guy come out and give us an estimate – I was unfortunately not home or at least not upstairs when he got here as I intended so he had to deal with Dad. Apparently, he was pretty frustrated trying to explain things to Dad and I had to call him later and get the information anyway.

Dad was upset about the money – no surprise there. He told me this summer that he has “never” paid more than $10 to have the lawn done. I paid more than $10 to have my tiny lawn done years ago and I knew perfectly well what we paid Lawn Guy last summer. So Tree Guy’s estimate, which was not given in 1950s money, was outrageously high. I was waiting for him to say that Tree Guy ought to pay us for the thrill of taking down the tree before it crushes my car or the carport.

After putzing around for weeks and refusing to make a decision or to follow through with his threats to get someone else to do it, he finally agreed. But let’s wait until it cools off, let’s wait until next spring, let’s wait until the tree magically grows feet and walks away on it’s own. Then I had the September from hell and things just kept getting put off so that’s why it’s cold and miserable while Tree Guy and his crew take down the tree today.

Dad has been down every few minutes since I told him that The Tree Guy would be here shortly to start work on the tree. “But that tree is not dead,” he said. “I can’t find my checkbook,” he said. “How much is it going to cost me?” he asked. Over and over and over. I try to be patient, I really do. Then he wants me to come sit upstairs with him all day because it’s so traumatic that the tree is coming down. I have stuff to do down here, especially since yesterday was a cold, gray, sleepy day. I’m not feeling all that much more awake and alive today but I’m getting some of it done. I will go up and sit with him when the first load of laundry comes out.

So, I sat upstairs for an hour or so. “How much is that going to cost me.” “Why are they taking that tree down?” “I can’t find my checkbook.” So, to give myself an additional headache I reminded him of our endo appointment on Thursday. Hey, it provided a change from the tree questions. “When is our appointment?” “What time is the appointment?” “What day do we have to go to Springfield?” I’m just fun that way.

I feel sorry for Dad. He’s depressed about this. I think partly he’s depressed because he’s not the one out there dealing with the tree. He’s not the one taking care of things. He was always a very take charge guy. He did the landscaping and stuff around the house. He built the little fence around the patio. He took care of the cars and repairs around the house. He doesn’t do any of that anymore. I have Zog’s on speed dial for home repairs and he’s going to come out twice per year to do the furnace filters and other basic maintenance. Getting old sucks and I know it’s really frustrating for Dad.

6PM and the Tree Guy and crew have finally finished and left. The tree is down and cut and stacked and the remnants hauled away. The lawn is cut and the leaves are gone. Even the flower beds were cleaned up, which was nice. It cost a little more than I expected but I’m going to minimize that with Dad. Hell, I’d pay the extra myself if needed. And after I spent some time with him upstairs he must have calmed down because I haven’t seen him, other than to hear him yell goodbye to the guys. Works for me.

On to a new week. Family night on Tuesday which is always interesting to see if I can get him out of the house. Dr. G&P on Thursday. Coma on Friday.

Sometimes I just have to vent. I am giving permission for you to just skip this post. I totally don’t expect you to wade through this.

Yesterday was at least 28 hours long. It was take Dad to see Mom day for her birthday day. Dad will tell you that he goes to see her several times per week. He does not. He goes when I take him, more or less forcing him out of the house. It took almost two hours to get him out of the house for the last family night. I generally start the day before to prepare him. Or even earlier. I’m already reminding him that family night is next Tuesday but part of that is because I was talking him out of getting flowers yesterday since Mike had already sent flowers and there’s only so much room in Mom’s room.

I started getting Dad ready on Monday by telling him that Tuesday was Mom’s birthday. I seriously considered not reminding him but there was always the chance that he would remember at some point and then feel bad. So Monday I told him about 27 times in 10 minutes that tomorrow was Mom’s birthday.

Dad: I guess I’ll have to go to Walmart and get her something.

Me: Why don’t you let me do that? I’ll buy her a pretty shirt or a comfy nightgown or something.

Dad: (gets wallet out) I’ll give you some money. Buy something for me.

Me: Don’t worry about it, I have money in my Dad stash. (I take care of Dad’s money and give him cash. Later I thought I probably should have taken his money and given it back to him when I give him cash.)

Dad: When is Mom’s birthday?

Me: Tomorrow. I’ll get something for her at Walmart for you.

Dad: (looks at his watch) Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday?

Me: Yes. We will go see her tomorrow.

Dad: I guess I’ll have to go to Walmart and get her something.

repeat ad nauseam.

When I got home, I reminded him we would go see Mom tomorrow and told him I had bought her a sweater and a t-shirt. It’s hard to buy her anything. She has at least 7000 stuffed animals and far more clothing than she will ever wear. I’ve bought her a bunch of snuggly blankets and a couple hundred other blankets have found their way into her room. But the sweater and tee are cute and cheerful Christmas tops. What the hell. We set a time to go – well, I set a time to go. I will remind him in the morning and try to get him to changes his clothes too. It’s been a week and a half since he changed his pants – and that is not hyperbole.

So Tuesday morning I remind him we will go see Mom after lunch. We go over the birthday thing, money, presents, flower and time. And I tell him to change his clothes again. Amazingly, when I call to check if he’s ready to go he says he is although he has not, in fact, changed his pants. I bring the car around and it only takes me another half hour to get him out of the house and into the car. During the half hour drive he checks his wallet at least 800 times. He tells me he will take the card my brother sent into her. We go over that it’s her birthday and yes we have a present and we will get her flowers next week for family night. (Why, you ask, didn’t I just let him get flowers yesterday? Because it will take another hour or more to stop and buy flowers and I am trying to get him to the nursing home before Mom takes her nap.)

Mom is laid down for her nap when we get there but she is not asleep. I give her a kiss and tell her happy birthday and she smiles. I am not sure she knows what I am talking about but at least she smiles. Dad sits across the room, not that there are a lot of seating options. “We” open her present and look at her shirts. She agrees the cards are pretty. Suddenly, when I say something about her birthday, Dad looks up surprised. “Today is her birthday?” he asks. “I didn’t get her anything.” I remind him that we got her the shirts that I just showed Mom and him. “I don’t remember,” he says. Repeat a dozen times over the next 30 minutes.

He wants to get a hamburger when we leave. So, we get a hamburger. I help him get the money out to pay and take part of the immense stack of one dollar bills he has in his wallet. He never uses one dollar bills to pay for stuff so I trade them out for bigger bills periodically. Clearly I have not done so this month. I try to check for whether he needs more cash and he does not understand why. I remind him again that I keep him stocked in cash. We’ll go over this tomorrow because my purse is out of reach to trade bills and give him some more spending money right now. The ride home is fairly quiet. I do not have the energy to go over the birthday thing again. Occasionally he suddenly remembers that he meant to take Mom some magazines. She cannot read and won’t even look at the pictures. Eventually, I just agree that I will take her some magazines. I am stupid that way. I should start out just agreeing instead of explaining. Hell, it will help clear away some of the magazines stacked up on the table.

As I said to my other brother yesterday morning, it’s not that I do that much. It’s not that big a deal. It’s just that I feel so tired.