Yesterday after the result of finding or not finding the five dollars missing from Al‘s wallet it didn’t end. Not only did I have to leave him with big tears of non-understanding from where was his money and why did someone take it, but it got worse through the evening.
I received a phone call after hours from the Social Services Director. She had gotten wind of the missing money. I am not sure what promoted her to go through his entire room but she was calling me to let me know she played investigator.
In front of Al and I am sure he watched her every move she went through all of his drawers and his collections on his bed side table and in the window sill. She told me she picked up one of his coca cola cans that is vintage and shook it. Why? I don’t know. She heard a rattle so she tipped it and found three small screwdrivers inside.
I didn’t know they were there. She said these were weapons or could be used as weapons. She also saw that he had fingernail clippers and those could be dangerous.
I admit if he tried to clip his fingernails with his tremors he could hurt himself. She demanded that I remove these and the screwdrivers. Al always used the tiny screwdrivers to take backs off of his collection pieces that used batteries. They obviously had been there the entire time that Al has been there.
I will go and get them. I guess I see her point but it was the wrong day to be in his room after the money loss. Then she told him she didn’t want his Easter basket of candy sitting on the floor. I saw the basket sitting beside his recliner yesterday when I was there. It made it very convenient to lean down and grab a piece without having to get up out of the chair.
She said he had too much candy. That is when I started to become a little defensive. I know, I may be too protective of him. I look at him different from they do. I see that the only things Al enjoys in his life are his coca cola collection and food. I purposely made him an extra-large basket of candy because I knew he would enjoy it so much. At this point of his disease I don’t really care how much candy he eats.
Yes, I realize weight is an issue with us. I know he has heart problems, but he has Parkinson’s Disease and terrible pain 24/7 and awful tremors. When are we going to just say “Pick the Battles”. Do we need to nit pick him constantly? Invade his room for weapons? Tell him about how candy will make him fat or not good for him? I am past that point.
Maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe I should be even more on him to keep him healthy but for what? He is not happy. He is miserable. He has dreams about God taking him home. He prays to die. I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore about petty rules. Let him eat his darn candy. Let him alone, please.