Grumpy Old Men

Sure, I love him. I wouldn't tie him to a tree or a toilet and I sure let my sibling know that I am not ready to place him in a home. I can care for him but not by myself. I need some help.

He is cranky and in pain. He is injured from a bad fall and everything hurts. Worse yet, he is really mad because he is badly constipated (lest you say...ewww: Oh, grow up! I say) from the vicodin. Seems my family aura is bringing vicodin into our lives more and more. It's like we channel it like some phony guru channels a 10,000 year old Asian warrior from their past life.

It's tough seeing Pop in pain. It hurts me. Yet he is putting a knot in my stomach. He must have EVERYTHING done HIS way: Since he can't 'do' around the house I must 'do' and am amply instructed on the proper way to do every chore, think every thought and handle cleaning, mailing (must be dropped off at the post office and NOT the box)...be sure to recycle...heaven forbid I put an empty cereal box in the garbage...it MUST go in the recycle bin. And don't forget to get brown bags along with plastic. And I hope you tell so & so...such and such. It feels endless. I don't feel talked down to so much as not considered a grown up because I prefer to do things my way and not his.

He is grumbling about costs due to an increased need for medical care recently. He is grumbling about food costs, insisting I spend a looooonnnnnnnggggg time searching for the Store brand of quick oatmeal--just to save 30 cents because that Quaker guy is a rip off apparently.

I know he feels old and foolish and when I allow myself the selfish sin of letting him know my plans are interrupted when I have to care for him (subtly letting him know that he should better care of himself)--I think what he hears is that HE is a pain, trouble and too much of that! He doesn't seem to be able to 'hear' that I love him and if he took better care of himself he would get sick less often and surely would have fewer falls (at least one devastating fall every year for the past 4-6 years). He broke his knee, gave himself a concussion, broke his leg, got a bad infection from an injury, all along with the assorted usual events: heart attacks, heart dysrhythmias that put him in the hosptial for 2-5 days, colonoscopies where he must be anesthetized and picked up; eye surgeries every year just to reduce the pressure in his eyes and always something unexpected--always something new and unexpected.

I know he is lonely but he doesn't like to come to church. He wants the church to come to him. They do. I have dear friends who I impose upon way too often to visit and shlep us here and there. But it is time to face reality: I am tired and need help.

Pray for me to be gracious and patient and wise. Pray for me to have the internal and physical strength to care for my ageing and ill father. Pray mostly that he truly turns to the Lord and doesn't just enjoy the occasional viewing of the 10 Commandments (he cries) or the Robe (he cries and remembers the work of Jesus). He needs more than I can give him. He needs Christ and soon.

He is more than a grumpy old man. He is a father and widow and proud employee and a former church deacon and service man. He is my grumpy old man who told me of Jesus and God and who yelled at me when I got hurt but encouraged my writing. He told me when I did well and always tells me when I don't. He loves me and shares what he has with me.

He complains and is grumpy very often now. He used to be silent and easily depressed but never grumpy. People always loved my dad for his spirit and warm smile and ready attitude. But now he is a grumpy old man in need of love and care and a bit of fun. He is a grumpy old man who needs a bigger TV, big number phone, padded garden stand for his arthritic knees, magnifier and 12 different kinds of medicines. And because of the vicodin, he probably needs some prunes, too.