I have the attention span of a gnat.
Combine general eternal ickiness with a natural tendance to lethargy
and I can't promise a complete entry -
You know, one with a beginning and a logic progression to the end of the story.
I'd bet my least favorite cat I won't produce that,
but here goes...
So my father marked a major milestone this week.
He turned 95 years old.
Not bad, actually record breaking for this family.
And he's an amazingly healthy 95.
He's still mobile.
He walks with the aid of a cane but walk on his own he still does.
He wears hearing aids.
He's a diabetic, a bad diabetic who refuses to alter his diet much,
but he's made it to 95 and his blood sugar doesn't get outrageous,
so we (myself and the other two members of the Sisters Three)
don't make a fuss.
He's prone to respiratory infections,
and those can lay him out and send him to the VA hospital,
but so far they've gotten him through his occasional crises
and he's gone back to life as usual.
He is slowing down cognitively though.
He sometimes forgets and sometimes misthinks,
so he needs help, of course.
Only problem is, he doesn't think he needs help
and, to put it kindly, he can be cantankerous when contradicted.
It isn't easy for him,
this time of losing control,
the physical betrayal of becoming old,
the needing of help.
I can't hold his occasional bouts of less than kindness
against him.
Okay, I'm done in and done.
Time to lay out tomorrow's clothes, make tomorrow's lunch,
and crash with hopes of sleeping through the night.
I'll try to finish some thoughts tomorrow.
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