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Cutting Dad's pork chop


Not that Bob

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It's hard, but it's your turn now.  Like it was his turn when you were growing up.  Like it was his turn went his country called.

My Dad died at age 60 and I would have given almost anything to have him another 15-20 years - I'm envious.  I appreciate your father's service to our country and your continued service to him.

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That's rough, I feel for you, and for many of the folks out there who face this every day in their respective lives. 

Personally, it is not something I will ever see as I will not take care of my father when his motor functions fail him as we do not have anything remotely considering a relationship. 

 

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1 hour ago, Not that Bob said:

Seeing Dad realize that he can no longer even cut his pork chop. Seeing the provider become dependent. Seeing the look on his face as I take over paying his bills and other chores he can no longer do. It's hard. It's real hard.

 

Going gracefully is the last thing anyone can really do.  It's our last achievement in this body.  Is it you or him who's having a hard time of it?  The way you described him convinces me he'll tackle this stage of life just like he always has.  It's his journey, so try not to let him see or feel you "noticing his changes".

 

Edited by PRONG HORN
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1 hour ago, Not that Bob said:

We had Dad and his best friend out for lunch Memorial Day. Dad, a Pacific War Vet, his buddy Korean War Vet. 

Dad is declining rapidly. A long, fruitful life, but it's still difficult to watch the decline of a guy who got up at 4 AM as a child to milk the cows, went to school, took off school at lunch to help his Dad deliver the milk, on a horse drawn cart, then back to school and repeat the next day. After the war he continued his education and became successful and respected. The paragon of a man...but Monday he was struggling to cut his pork chop. They weren't butter tender, but not that tough. I offered to help, but he declined. My son, his grandson got up and took over. Dad will often let his grandson do things that he won't let me do. There's some sort of generational divide that is different from father to son to grandson. 

I have bittersweet memories of the happiness it gave mother when I fed her in the nursing home during her final days. Definitely more bitter than sweet, but it had to be done and she could feel the love. That was hard. That was my "Mommie", but somehow this is different. Seeing Dad realize that he can no longer even cut his pork chop. Seeing the provider become dependent. Seeing the look on his face as I take over paying his bills and other chores he can no longer do. It's hard. It's real hard.

 

My dad was a tough son of a bitch, but he passed suddenly earlier this year although while still self-sufficient and doing his tough son of a bitch things on his ranch. I'm sorry that I didn't have more time with him but also very grateful he didn't have to deal with any further decline. So I consider us both lucky in that regard.

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The last time I saw my dad alive he was babbling and giggling like a little girl and wearing a DNR bracelet. He was in a lot of pain the 6 months preceding that night but for being 88 he did well right up until the end. I miss that guy (not the babbler, normal healthy dad).

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I know this sounds a little ghoulish, but a few of us were joking when I was up for my mom's funeral earlier this month, that both my dad and mom "did us right" and went quickly.  Dad in a car wreck (from seemingly "normal" to dead in 5 hours, internal bleeding), and mom was slow but self-sufficient right up until the day she went into the hospital about April 28.  By May 3 she was dead from organ failure.

I was definitely "lucky" that I was spared the heartache of watching a parent decline and become helpless; my dad died at a relatively young 71 and although my mom lived to 88+, I only began to see that "resignation" start about 5 months ago when she stopped driving... I think she was as determined as anyone to not accept her "swirling down the drain" fate, and actually made a good run at it.  She had to practically be thrown into the hospital and once she was, she just let go completely - 4 days.  My wife's dad went but a longer struggle and it was tough.  Her mother is hanging on but has a variety of ailments and it is, to put it nicely, killing my wife to have to deal with her (she is a special medical case though, complex stuff piled on top of other complex stuff).

I cannot imagine that, and for myself (let's face it, I see "that guy" on the horizon, as somewhat distant as it is now), I hope I go quickly and easily.   I will give my son a .45 and say shoot me when it's time.  Well I know that won't happen, but I'll try to do my damnedest to go out with dignity.

The decline of the well-aged is one of the worst aspects I can think of in life; to experience it (I imagine) and to bear it as a loved one.  I hope to God we somehow find a better way at some point, tough as it is.  

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OP, that's a great post.  And thank you for sharing.

Feeling the transition, and the gravity of it -- well, that's you doing the right thing.  We are all on this same train, headed the same direction, and there's only one way to get off in the end.

I cried when my daughter was born.  Now she's looking at colleges far, far away, and it tears me up.  And then I see what I'm beginning to deal with for my own aging parents, and I realize that someday, she'll have to deal with the same things with me.  And it breaks my heart.  Life's a heartbreaking sonofoabitch.  It's a side effect of it being filled with so many wonderful people and so much love.

I wish peace for your dad's journey. Peace for your journey.  And love for the entire time that your journeys overlap.

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4 hours ago, Not that Bob said:

We had Dad and his best friend out for lunch Memorial Day. Dad, a Pacific War Vet, his buddy Korean War Vet. 

Dad is declining rapidly. A long, fruitful life, but it's still difficult to watch the decline of a guy who got up at 4 AM as a child to milk the cows, went to school, took off school at lunch to help his Dad deliver the milk, on a horse drawn cart, then back to school and repeat the next day. After the war he continued his education and became successful and respected. The paragon of a man...but Monday he was struggling to cut his pork chop. They weren't butter tender, but not that tough. I offered to help, but he declined. My son, his grandson got up and took over. Dad will often let his grandson do things that he won't let me do. There's some sort of generational divide that is different from father to son to grandson. 

I have bittersweet memories of the happiness it gave mother when I fed her in the nursing home during her final days. Definitely more bitter than sweet, but it had to be done and she could feel the love. That was hard. That was my "Mommie", but somehow this is different. Seeing Dad realize that he can no longer even cut his pork chop. Seeing the provider become dependent. Seeing the look on his face as I take over paying his bills and other chores he can no longer do. It's hard. It's real hard.

My allergies are suddenly bothering me.

 

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My Dad would have turned 88 on Sunday.  It was the first May 27th he's been gone.  And I was sad.  But watching his slow deterioration over the 3 years after my mom passed, I know it was a blessing that he was gone to be with her.  It isn't easy, but as was said above, our time will come.  

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Man, this is tough. Enjoy the time you have.

My dad lost his battle with cancer almost 16 years ago. They sent him home to die, with hospice coming by every day. Asked me to burn a CD with nothing but "Paint it Black" on it the day before he died. Still can't listen to that song.

He was a smartass until the end, though. A few days before, I had my best friend, who was a barber/hair stylist, come over to give him his last haircut. My mom says to him, "I bet it's nice having a cute girl cut your hair."

He replied, "When is she coming over?"

 

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17 hours ago, Not that Bob said:

There's some sort of generational divide that is different from father to son to grandson. 

Same thing in my family.  Isn't it amusing to observe?  I had a great childhood, but my dad was a very stoic German Lutheran.  Never much emotion, either good or bad.  I saw him cry once and I remember the one time he told me that he was proud of me.  

These days, my sister has three little girls, and those three girls have my dad wrapped around their fingers.  He's a completely different grandfather than father.  The girls actually prefer him out of all of our relatives, excepting their father and mother.  If they fall down, get scared, etc. they will run right past their grandmothers and aunts and right into my dad's arms.  It's really heartwarming to watch.    

Sorry for the sentimental diversion.

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Doc. Such a different experience for you, but Dad and I have not always been "close", if indeed you could say that we are now. Differences about The Viet Nam War, among other things, took a toll on our relationship that will never be repaired. We are rather textbook examples of the effects of "The Generation Gap". I think we both wanted the relationship enough that we learned over the years to just STFU about certain subjects. 

Prong. In truth, the actual "hard" part is exactly what you refer to...not letting him see me notice the changes. The chores are just motions. The hard part is performing the chores with finesse and tact. 

PhD. I have had this conversation with myself and others, wouldn't it be easier if they would just "hurry up and die." Sometimes, I guess, a long life is not a blessing but a curse. I have no small anxiety wondering what I will do when my time comes. I can't imagine suicide. Neither can I imagine waiting, essentially invalid, days, weeks, years,  waiting for the release of death.

Brisket. "...seeing the transition, and the gravity of it..." Keen observation, as usual.

Kenny. Please don't apologize for the "sentimental diversion." I wanted to hear your story. 

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Holy crap you nailed something so huge in that post Not that Bob.

being sneaky, or finessing, as you say; is a huge ass challenge.  You know it needs to be done.  You know they don't want you to do it...LOlz.

 

God help you if you get caught.  Sometimes my brother and I joke about this stuff about our mom( 80, but in good health.  fiercely independent.)

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10 hours ago, Not that Bob said:

Doc. Such a different experience for you, but Dad and I have not always been "close", if indeed you could say that we are now. Differences about The Viet Nam War, among other things, took a toll on our relationship that will never be repaired. We are rather textbook examples of the effects of "The Generation Gap". I think we both wanted the relationship enough that we learned over the years to just STFU about certain subjects. 

Prong. In truth, the actual "hard" part is exactly what you refer to...not letting him see me notice the changes. The chores are just motions. The hard part is performing the chores with finesse and tact. 

PhD. I have had this conversation with myself and others, wouldn't it be easier if they would just "hurry up and die." Sometimes, I guess, a long life is not a blessing but a curse. I have no small anxiety wondering what I will do when my time comes. I can't imagine suicide. Neither can I imagine waiting, essentially invalid, days, weeks, years,  waiting for the release of death.

Brisket. "...seeing the transition, and the gravity of it..." Keen observation, as usual.

Kenny. Please don't apologize for the "sentimental diversion." I wanted to hear your story. 

Wow.  You captured my situation near perfectly. 6 years ago my mother died of cancer at age 80, fortunately it was relatively quick but brutal.  Since then I’ve had to take care of, if you can call it that, my dad.  The deterioration is slow so it’s hard to notice but quick to annoy and depress.  Giving up his car voluntarily.  Resigning to using a walker in the house and an electric scooter outside.   Our weekly lunches now involve him in a wheelchair and not walking.   It’s taken every goddamned bit of my restraint to not blow up at times.   He won’t even deal with his mail anymore.  It’s like I’m his mom who comes and takes care of shit every week.  He surprises me and does his laundry every now and then.   He’s 84 now and still able to live day to day in terms of getting around his apartment, eating and showering and stuff.  But it’s been hell watching it roll swoly downhill.   On the upside, we know and appreciate each other through this experience way more than if he’d have died before my mom.  She was glue.  

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Enjoy him while you can. My dad died suddenly in his sleep at 62. This October 5th it’ll be 13 years. Sucks that my kids have to grow up without an influence as important as a grandfather. They would have liked him. Sometimes I wish I had him around for advice.

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On 5/30/2018 at 1:37 PM, Not that Bob said:

Dad will often let his grandson do things that he won't let me do. There's some sort of generational divide that is different from father to son to grandson. 

Truer words have never been spoken...

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