Dad turned 98 on the 11th of August. Can you believe it? He’s 98 years old! It just doesn’t seem he could be that age, particularly since I’m so young . . . or at least I’m young inside my own head. He’s probably young inside of his head too.
The only real indication that he’s 98 is his gait instability. His balance is very poor, and he can’t walk around very well without his walker or at least without having a wall or furniture to hang onto. And of course, he doesn’t like change of any kind.
He enjoys having the great-grandchildren around, and he especially likes it when they go to visit him in his sitting room or at the computer. He thinks that’s just the greatest – and so does mom. Although she can’t hear them or see them very well, she really enjoys having them sit by her or show her their toys.
Dad’s birthday party went well, and he really enjoyed it. The next day, he said, “That was a nice party last night.” So I know he had a good time, even if he didn’t say too much while everyone was there. He watched and listened and liked having everyone there. He never gives compliments or says something nice unless he really means it. So that means that it’s rare that he says, “Good dinner, Carol.” But when he does say it, I know he means it. He almost always eats whatever I give him, but I rarely know if he likes it.
I so much want to go stay with the kids on the weekend of the 27th of August, but so far, we haven’t been able to find anyone to stay with mom and dad. Robbyn is sick, Missy is working, and there’s really no one else. Uncle Bill can come, but he can’t help mom with her bathroom, diaper, and bedtime things. I think dad will let us get someone to put mom to bed in the evenings, but there’s still the daytime when the caregivers aren’t here. I just don’t see how we’ll be able to get away. I’m praying for a miracle.
