To Do List: Dad
Haircut
It was a day like many others. I had my list of TO DO’s and was pretty much
on track to get it all done. Part of me
wanted to skip the next task. I could
think of many reasons why I should skip this particular task. It could wait. It always takes longer than expected. I always cry after I visit. He probably won’t remember I’ve been
there. And the list goes on and on, but I
went.
I was greeted by the caregiver, Anna when I arrive and was
told he was in his room napping. I
walked in to find him sitting on the edge of his chair, a puzzled look on his
face. The DVD on the TV in continuous repeat
the same single line of the song, over and over and over. “Hey Dad” my usual greeting, and his reply “Hey
Darling.” The look softened a little but
not completely gone. “What’cha doing?” He rubs his forehead “Aww, trying to get up, I’ve
just been sitting here doing nothing missing out on all the overtime available. I need to take that stuff down to green
valley.” Now I’m the puzzled one,
wondering which job or what stuff he’s thinking of. I wish I could understand this disease called
dementia. Where in the randomness of the
day thoughts of in-completion and frustration raid the tired brain and body of
the elderly making them think they haven’t finished their work here. But on to the task at hand, “I’m here to give
you a haircut” “Oh good” he says satisfactorily
“they don’t do a good job here” Then he starts to ramble about some guy
not doing things right.
Now I just have to get him up and down the long hallway out
on the patio to my makeshift hair salon. It’s not
that far but his steps are short and shuffled, and first I have to get him to
stand up. The Parkinson’s and lack of
exercise have left his muscle so weak he can hardly push himself up from the
chair to stand. It is a huge frustration
to me and yet I still don’t exercise regularly.
Finally standing and hands firmly on the walker he heads toward the
closet. “No dad, we need to go this way” “which way?” he questions apparently unable
to see me or the door to the room. I
gently try to direct his walker and am met with resistance, his grip is still
strong “What’s pulling on this thing?” “Sorry Dad I was just trying to help.” I’ve already been here 15 minutes and we haven’t
even gotten out of the bedroom much less started the haircut part yet.
Finally headed down the hallway dad suddenly asks “Where’s
your mother?” Immediately I try to
clarify, is he talking about Mom? Or does he think I am someone else? So I ask “who
are you asking about, my mom?” “Yes.” He replies to me like who else in the
world would I be asking about. Still not
convinced he’s talking about Mom. I remind
him that I am Brenda, still he persist “Where’s your mother?” Without thinking I remind him, “Dad remember
mom passed away.” Then it hits me, and I think to myself as a matter of fact 13
years ago today mom passed away. Now the wave of sadness comes, here’s the
tears that always happens starting far too early in the visit. He shakes his head in disbelief “What? Your mother
passed away? When?” and then the remembrance starts to come back and he is lost
in his despair again. I decide then and there never to remind him
again. I will just tell him that she’s
shopping, or she’ll be over in a bit, or perhaps I will say “She’s waiting for
you at the pearly gates of Heaven.
Wishing you would join her. It’s the only time she’s ever had to wait on
you.” We continue down the hallway.
Anna meets us in the kitchen on our way out to the patio she
has his afternoon dose of pills ready. I
am relieved, it will help him be less anxious, more relaxed and lessen his back
pain. Unfortunately there is no cure
for the despair he feels. Antidepressants
don’t help in Parkinson’s patients. We
continue at a shuffle out the door to the patio. The weather is beautiful. Finally the haircut starts.
It has been about six weeks since his last haircut, given by
someone who comes to the care home and charges $20, he looks pretty
shaggy. I cut it short, a number one,
his haircut of preference, trim his eyebrows and all the other places that
grown unwanted hair. All the while I’m thinking
this could be the last time I get this opportunity and wondering why would I
want to skip this task on my To Do list.
We finish up the haircut now to get him back inside. He is feeling more relaxed now, thankfully
the meds are working. Down the long
hallway back to his room.
He is tired he wants to rest. Shuffle to the chair that he can’t see and
finally backed up and seated sideways so another stand and straighten up. I turn on the Gaither DVD, music that is soothing
and familiar. We sing along a bit words
that come naturally to songs we’ve sung for so long. He drifts off to sleep. Hopefully it will be restful for him. Maybe Mom will visit him in his dreams and
reassure him that everything’s going to be alright. I know that’s what she always told me.
I leave trying to hold back the tears that always come after
a visit. And back on my To Do list for
three weeks down the road. Dad Haircut. Or perhaps he will need a trim sooner. I love you Dad.
