I wanted to do something else for a couple of hours this morning. My dad wanted me to get yet another prescription out of a doctor. For constipation. Trust me, no matter what is wrong with an elderly person it always gets back to the bowel. Trouble is, some of the drugs he's taking cause constipation. He no longer had the pain they were to be used for. Stop those. Some drugs he's taking may cause diarrhea. Some drugs for constipation reduce the efficacy of some antibiotics he's taking. So. What is needed is for a doctor to look at the drugs and situation and recommend something. My sweet husband faxed a drug list to his GP and went over there to try to sort it out and go get a prescription filled or a recommendation. I needed a hand. Someone else to do what may be useful, may be futile but makes everyone feel like we are good caregivers and makes Dad feel like he has what he needs. Someone to wait to talk to the doctor. To take the prescription to the pharmacy and wait for it to be filled or get the OTC drug recommended. To talk to Dad about it. This is all I do, it seems to me. Doctor's offices, pharmacy, emergency room, talk to Dad, repeat. It could be worse. He can take care of some things, or try to do so, himself. But it is constantly on my mind. Other things are scooted out. Because Forrest is doing this possibly fool's errand, possibly errand of mercy, I can sit here and write about it. And go to a two hour class and write peacefully. Unless the phone rings. And my crisis management is required again.
But too many of my Holidailies posts have been about my dad's illness and my frustration with it.
There are other things to write about.
For example, I have managed to write a paragraph or two in this space for thirty-one days. I sometimes did it on a laptop while waiting for my dad's next need. (Often encountering his ire because he apparently wanted us to do something else while waiting for his next need.) I even wrote one on my iPhone. It was a nice release and while I will wince when I look back and see how bitter and ungrateful I was during this period, it will be instructive to look back. I was also pleased that this post got a 'best of Holidailies' designation. I always hope to get one of those a year.
Also, Chip did such a great job on the Holidailies site that it's been a true joy to use it. Why can't more sites cleanly present data, changing seamlessly as people add things?
And, of course, during this spate of writing here I have had the pleasure of displaying many of my shop window reflections, replete with shape and color and depth. Well, I like them and one reader, at least, does as well.
Nothing feels like an accomplishment any more. Not the things I do for my dad. Not the things I write or photograph. Not getting out Christmas cards or paying bills or (when I do get to it) cleaning the apartment. I have been walking a friend's dog since Saturday and I have to say that this chore has been a little bit of a joy, forcing me out into the cold air and forcing me to look around the neighborhood a bit. Fortunately her elimination is working and for that I'm grateful and I'm happy to pick up the poop in the pink bags. Now if Dad can just successfully eliminate, too, everyone would be happy. Well, not really, but you know...it often does just come down to the bowel and bladder. It's good to remember that.
Goodbye to Holidailies. Let's hope I can keep up a bit of blogging or writing without it. Have a great 2010, readers. I hope mine does not consist of 80% of the days taken with doctors, emergency rooms, etc. as the first five have been. Gotta get better.