Saturdays with my Dad

Pictures of the Day for 1/30/2010.

Every Saturday I take my Dad out to lunch. Our outing follows a very specific pattern (outlined below).

I walk into his apartment at his assisted living facility at 11:00ish, wake him up (he likes to sleep- a lot), and inform him that we're going out to lunch. He's pretty good about getting up right away.

He gets dressed in his uniform (a powder blue seersucker jumpsuit and a blazer) and informs me that someone must have stolen some of his blazers. This is not true- no one has stolen his blazers, unless you count his daughters spiriting all but one of them away since they were falling apart. I tell him that my sister is in possession of his blazers and is working on repairing the lining. This is not true either- but it keeps him from getting agitated.

Speaking of agitation control, I make sure my Dad has his sunglasses before we leave the apartment. This is crucial. I made the mistake once of taking him for an outing without his sunglasses and sincerely rued the day since he obsessed about those glasses the ENTIRE time. Sometimes he'll inform me that he doesn't need his sunglasses, but I don't don't fall for that trap. Even if there were a total eclipse of the sun and it was pitch black outside, I would still insist he take the sunglasses.

On our way out the door, we'll stop at the front desk to sign him out. My Dad invariably asks the front desk receptionist if she's sober.

When we get in my car, he asks if I'm sober enough to drive. I give various smart aleck replies to that question. After determining my sobriety (or lack thereof), my Dad asks a question that he'll repeat at least 50 times (I am not exaggerating) throughout the course of our outing. "How is the family?" I tell him that they're fine, but my sisters aren't as nice as I am. ;-) The following are other questions/comments I can count on hearing repeatedly:
1- What is the day, month, and year?
2- I'll be turning 89 this year.
3- How long ago did Mother (Polly) pass away?
4- I miss Polly. She was a great companion.
4- The mountains are beautiful.
5- What a beautiful day.
6- Getting old is so hard.
7- I'm so grateful to have daughters who look after me.
I'm sure it seems that I'm making fun of my Dad. Not at all. There's nothing wrong with his thinking; his short-term memory just happens to be non-existent. I'm happy to answer these questions a thousand times over for him. I'm just documenting what a typical afternoon with my Dad is like.

We end up going to one of two places to eat- Karroo's or Garden Espresso. At Karroo's, I order him a roast beef, mushroom, melted Swiss cheese sandwich on pumpernickel. At Garden Espresso, I order him a pastrami sandwich on rye bread. The sandwiches are always accompanied by a lot of Doctor Pepper.

During lunch, I ask him to tell me about things he can remember- flying planes, his parents, his work as an acoustical engineer, etc. He asks me to tell him what's going on in the world. We check CNN on my iPhone if I can't think of anything off the top of my head.

My Dad loooooves to linger over his lunch. He tells me how nice it is just to sit and watch the world go by. I know how much he enjoys being out and about, but he lingers to the point where I get antsy. I solve this problem by doing a little shopping while he's finishing up lunch. If we're at Karroo's, I walk next door to the Bernina sewing/fabric shop. Consequently, I'm now the owner of more sewing patterns and fabric than I'll ever need. If we're at Garden Espresso, I'll visit the little gift shop attached to the cafe. I'm only now getting to a point where I don't buy every knick knack that strikes my fancy at the gift shop. I don't know where to display all the items I already have, much less new ones. After I return from my shopping forays, my Dad asks if I'm in a hurry to leave. I always say no. Once we do eventually leave, I make sure he has a Doctor Pepper to go.

On the way back to his apartment, my Dad asks if we can drive past Willow Creek Country Club where he spent years golfing nearly every single day of his life. "Sure we can," I say. Lately, driving past Willow Creek is not enough. He wants to go for scenic drives as well. Today we drove through the canyons (see picture below).


Once we return to the assisted living facility, I sign my Dad back in and escort him back to his apartment. He asks if he has any remaining social obligations for the day and I assure him it's OK for him to go ahead and take a nap. We then review the calendar to see how many days will pass before he sees me again.

So, that's a typical outing with my Dad. He's such a joy to be around because he is so sweet and so appreciative for the attention.