We went over on Saturday and had cake and coffee. My dad is having a lot of trouble standing up. It takes him two or three tries and he’s very wobbly. He insisted on trimming the flower stems with a huge knife. After he nicked himself, I told him I would have a heart attack if he didn’t let me do the rest. His arthritis is so bad that he can’t close his hands properly, so it’s difficult to hold things. My sister asked him to cut the cake and I told her straight out, “The man is shaky and on coumadin. You’re cutting the cake.” I think she doesn’t want to see the changes in him.
My mother recently changed out the vent on the dryer, lying on her back on the garage floor to do so. The woman will not ask for help, EVER. She told me that it’s getting harder to find stuff that my dad will eat, because his appetite is so poor. They were both thrilled with the Costco baked chicken, though. $5 and they got nine servings out of it. My mom doesn’t do anything except look after my dad and he worries while she’s out shopping or running errands. I wish she would let us help so she could go to daily mass or to the bookstore.
