I have not written for a few days about Al, because I did not want to jinx my good luck, and I know from experiences in my own life, that good things do not last forever. I am thankful for the few days we had, but in a blink of an eye, it was all over, so now I can once again blog my amazement over illness.
Al had been a funny guy. He half-way resorted to his past, with funny remarks, and I once even a heard a crack about someone on the television, that made me snicker to myself. I had taken him out to eat once each day over the weekend, with Saturday even being spent for about a half hour at the goodwill store. We took his scooter and he made his way through the store, and I am pretty sure his eyes were like bullets, ready to aim in on any coca cola items, but he did not see any.
This ended our trip to the store, because of his mentality, or his child like behavior, when he did not see anything for him, then he assumes the trip is over, and I can just forget anything I may be looking at.
We then stopped at K-Mart after the goodwill store, and I purchased a new WaterPik for myself as mine was shot, and we got Al some non-prescription medicine called Miralax.
One of the side effects from Parkinson’s is having a difficult time when using the bathroom. It is not only difficult to get the brain to acknowledge the fact that he is sitting there ready to aim, but you also suffer from, how should I say it delicately, take a dump, leave a bomber. LOL
Thanks to a good friend, here at blogging world, I was told about this Miralax drug that made things, umm, easier to eject. So we purchased the smaller box to see how effective it would be for Al, and he also reminded me that he had no ice-cream at home. This is one of Al’s latest hook-ups. He has to have ice-cream every night for his snack that he takes his bedtime medications with. Along with that he adds a small box of raisins or some prunes. Yuck, I hate prunes!
So, we make our purchases, and I see that he is almost out of energy, so we pay and go home. He had done really well, no cussing anyone in the stores, and no tears, a great day. Even the next day, when we went out for lunch it was still running the same way. We also used the new medication with positive results. He was happy and so was I , as I didn’t have to sweat over the stool with a plunger! LOL
Today, was good also. Wow! Almost three days, but then it ended, like I said before, in a blink of an eye. He had his medication this morning, and by supper it had not worked, and that was all it took for smiles to turn into anger and tears.
I explained to him that maybe he no longer needed to use the facilities daily, and he argued the point, saying the pirlax, his pronunciation, was out to get him, that it was fooling him by not working. It was like other things you buy in the stores, works one or two days then quits. He wanted me to take the product back to the store and he wanted to tell them what he thought of it. I said no, we have already opened it. He cried, and I went back to finishing supper.
Our supper consisted of broiled pork chops, spaghetti squash, baked potato, and sugar-free chocolate cake with sugar-free icing. While I was finishing up his dinner plate, cutting all of his foods, I asked him if he would like to go outdoors and get the newspaper. While still swearing up a storm, he did go get it.
Dinner bell was served, lol, and I sat his drink with thicket in it, and his plate with all foods cut up in small bites in front of him, and I went to my own little quiet table in the living room, and I said a prayer of thanks for my food, and we began our feast.
I was gazing through Facebook and eating and pretty soon I hear the sounds of tap-tap tap. I look over and Al’s tremors are playing a song with his fork hitting the plate. He saw me look at him, and I hurried and looked away, as I knew he would be ashamed that I saw what his hands were doing. Nothing was said, but I did hear the music continue. I finished my supper and got up to take the dirty plate and glass over to be rinsed off, and I stopped in my tracks.
I had not thought about it prior,but when I looked at Al, he had chocolate icing stuck to his lips, chin, fingers, and floor. I must be getting better at not being shocked, as I said nothing and even a sigh did not escape from my lungs. He was crying, and I think he would have been swearing, but the icing was holding his mouth together, preventing the foul words to come out. I continued on to the sink, and rinsed my plate, glass and utensils out, placing them in the dishwasher. I put the leftover foods into proper containers and refrigerated them. I wiped down the counter, and got me a cup of coffee ready for my after dinner drink.
I turned around and although his pride would not allow him to ask for help, I saw that his plate was finished, so I took them and rinsed them off. I then grabbed a wash cloth and wet it with warm water and proceeded to wash his hands and fingers off. Actually, I was thinking of me, I guess, the cleaning mess I was going to have if I didn’t clean him up right here, and how he would track it down the hall and into his bathroom and where ever his fingers would touch, so it was easier to clean here.
He started yelling at me. I am just a big baby, this Parkinson’s has turned me into a baby! I can’t even eat without making a mess! As he was yelling and crying, I kept cleaning, and then being sure he was chocolate free, I proceeded to clean chocolate and foods off of the floor, and then grabbed my coffee and headed to the living room, here in front of my computer, to find peace, and ponder on how I was going to deal with feeding him cake with icing from now on, without causing him extra stress and grief, but not taking away something he loves.
An 8-year-old girl went to her grandfather, who was working
in the yard and asked him, “Grampa, what is couple sex?”
The grandfather was surprised that she would ask such a question, but decided that if she’s old enough to know to ask the question, then she’s old enough to get an honest answer.
Steeling himself to leave nothing out, he proceeded to tell her all about human reproduction and the joys and responsibilities of intercourse.
When he finished explaining, the little girl was looking at him with her mouth hanging open, eyes wide in amazement.
Seeing the look on her face, the grandfather asked her, “Why did you ask this question, honey?”
The little girl replied, “Grandma says that dinner will be ready in just a couple secs.”
Dahlia put all day dreams aside and buried her head in to her studies. Every free moment from chores at home or not in school, she studied. She even gave up her time with the television viewing.
Her teacher was so impressed with her, that she helped Dahlia fill out forms to enter the college for arts, in the city next door. The teacher came to Dahlia’s home one evening, and was invited to supper. As they sat around the table, the teacher gave the good news of acceptance into the college. A squeal of delight came out of Dahlia’s throat, but her parents were not all that impressed with this news. Who was going to help around the house? Who was going to prepare the meals? The four of them sat in discussion, each giving their own points of view on the topic, but in the end the parents could see only their own. Dahlia walked the teacher to the door to bid her goodbye, and as she lay her hand on the door knob, the teacher leaned in and whispered in her ear, that together, they would make this work. She explained to Dahlia, that a talent was here, and it should not be wasted.
It seemed from that night forward, there were more chores put on her list. More time-consuming, making Dahlia almost too tired to even dream, but she didn’t give up. She was bound to make her journey in life worth living. She dealt with all the extras in her life, and still managed to keep her grades up. Her parents saw her determination, but theirs was also a match to be contended with.
Dahlia was in her last year of high school, and was still setting her goals. She wanted to be a dancer, and nothing was going to stop her. Although, her parents saw this desire in her actions and eyes, they were unwilling to give up their daughter-maid.
Two weeks before graduation, college doors were waiting to be opened for her future. Her tuition had been paid for the first year. She had two things stopping her, one was transportation and the other was her parents blessings for a better life.
The teacher without invitation paid a visit to the family home and one more time tried to convince the parents to look at their child as an adult, to see the potential, but there was no movement. After taking a deep sigh, the teacher announces that Dahlia will come live with her through her college days, and she will be able to walk to school or ride a spare bicycle. The parents stood up and left the table, and retired to the living room, and turned on the television to watch their variety show. The teacher looked Dahlia straight in the eye, and told her, that in the end it was her decision. She could stay home and humor her parents or she could grab hold of the opportunity given to her and run with it. They both sat up, and walked together into Dahlia’s bedroom. Whatever they could grab and pack and carry in one trip,they did. With all packed and sitting at the front door, Dahlia walked into the living room, and told her parents she had decided to go. She explained for the last time her desire to be a dancer. With no expressions or words being muttered, she walked to each parent and gave each a peck on the cheek, and told them both, that she loved them,and she was sorry she was hurting them, but she must go, and she did. She turned around, without looking back, and the teacher and Dahlia walked out the door with her bags and it was a long time before she ever stepped through that door once again.
By the time they made it to the teacher’s home, it was getting dark, and both ladies were tired from the whole day, but yet when they looked into each others eyes, there was a twinkle of excitement. A new beginning, a new adventure was about to begin in a few days. With smiles on both faces, the teacher showed her to her bedroom, that would be hers for the next year.
After leaving her to herself, Dahlia looked the room over. She ran her fingers over the table tops and could almost see herself in the shine that reflected back to her. She felt the crisp, line-dried sheets on the bed. The bathroom she would share with the teacher was right across the hall, and the teacher’s bedroom was one room down from the bathroom.
The bedroom walls were a creamy yellow, and their were white flowing curtains framing the windows, with white blinds that could be pulled for privacy. Dahlia walked over to the windows, and pulled the blinds down, blacking out the unknown and thoughts of her parents. She walked over to her bags, and began to unpack the clothing and accessories she would need for tonight, and proceeded to get ready for bed. In no time, at all, she was fast asleep, dreaming about the doll, with stiff body, who had been twirled round and round.
The next morning brought a knock on the door, letting her know that the teacher was up. After admitting her into her room, the teacher walked over to the window, and rising the blind, let in all the bright sunshine, and a lift of the window pane, allowed birds to be heard. It was a beautiful day. The teacher told her to get dressed quickly and come to the kitchen, where she would be preparing their breakfast for them. Dahlia nodded and got up off of the bed, and unpacked the rest of her clothing, hanging some of the pieces in the closet, and placing others into the drawers of the dresser. She got dressed and went across the hall to the bathroom, and splashed cool water over her face, and brushed her teeth and her hair. She gazed at herself and was proud of all she had accomplished so far in her life. She thought of her parents in the city next door, and felt a sadness for the lack of their emotional support, but had to let it go, and turned around walking out of the bathroom, made her way to the kitchen.