5/9 - I iz a crabby bitch

Today I was Ms Crabby Ass for sure.   I don't know if its hormonal or weather related (we've had clouds and rain for almost a week) or maybe just stress, but although I managed to be pleasant and helpful at work - when I visited Dad, he got on my last nerve and I was not as patient as I should have been.

I visit five days a week and its eye opening and a bit scary to see my father acting erratically on occasion and not having a clue about it.  Tonight I found him with a nail clipper in hand trying to pry the back off his cellphone to get the battery out so that he could charge it.  He's had this particular phone for at least five years - and he's charged it by plugging in a charger many hundreds of times - and he also has taken the battery out by sliding the cover down at least a dozen times as well.  Yet I had to explain to him that he should leave the battery in to use the charger......and I showed him how it displays "charging" when it is - and how he needs to leave it plugged in for a couple of hours.

And then I went to get his laundry and only found one set of clothes in the hamper - but I haven't picked anything up in three days.  So I asked him if he'd been wearing the same thing over and over -or if perhaps he'd had the facility wash some clothes for him....and eventually he figured out that he'd been stashing his dirty laundry in the back of the closet - and some of it was hung up on hangers.  (A jacket that I'd accidentally left there was also hung up in his closet - it seems that anything I forget gets claimed as his these days).  While he's figuring this out (and I'm being patient because I know that I need to let him do what he can on his own) he keeps knocking over the pile of scrap paper pieces that he's stacked on his bed tray table.  And I can't get the closet drawer open to put the clean clothes away for him because he's now collected three pairs of shoes stacked in the corner to go with the weeks worth of newspapers and the box that his new brace came in because he doesn't want to throw any of it out. 

The man's already hoarding in his nursing home room......a reminder that whatever cleaning and sorting I do at his house is only being tolerated - not appreciated, and the clutter and dirt will be back as soon as he is.  Granted the place isn't bad enough to warrant a Hoarders intervention - but I've come across mouse droppings in every single box, bag, closet, and corner that I've cleared out, and a lot of papers and photos are no longer recognizable as anything other than rodent nests.  Supposedly an exterminator was called in last fall and there are no more mice around.....and I sure hope that's right.

And then he starts to tell me how he is perfectly capable of going home and taking care of everything himself now - that he can get in and out of bed and walk around and dress and bathe and even climb stairs on his own - its just that their policy requires him to have help.  I don't argue about it because there's no point - he'll just get angry and accuse me of not being supportive.....and he takes my silence for disagreement so it ends up that way anyhow.

I know that I need to be kinder and more tolerant, and in years to come I'll look back and miss my dad and be grateful for the time we had together.  But right now, I'm just very tired.