Pepaw is not happy with God right now.
Last week was my dad-in-law’s regular check-up with the doctor who had prescribed the meds to keep him calm. We had to move him into a secure facility last fall to protect him and others when his Alzheimer’s turned him into a very unhappy, unpredictable and angry man. Thanks to the meds, he has been doing much better and is his usual lovable and smooth-talking self again.
The staff at the Alzheimer’s facility had him ready to go when I arrived. I greeted him with a big smile as usual. I had learned not to give him an immediate hug because I didn’t want to scare him, just in case he didn’t remember who I was.
(He doesn’t remember or understand that I’m his daughter-in-law. I’m just some gal who travels with his son. Hmm, that is far more fascinating than a D-I-L …)
Escorting him to my car parked out front, I fastened his seatbelt because he’d been unsure what to do with it in recent months.
“What do you think of all this snow?” I asked him during the short distance to the doctor’s office. “You haven’t seen any for a while, have you?”
“No, not very much.” His voice was low. Did he remember that he hadn’t experienced a northern winter for nearly 20 years? Did he simply wonder where the heck he was?
“Look at the birds,” he said, pointing to the sky, overflowing with winged creatures that hadn’t taken a winter vacation.
“Yes, there are lots of them who put up with the cold weather.” I was just so excited that he had spoken up about something, anything!
“I can’t find my Bible.”
Yay! Another statement!
As I pulled into a parking place, I asked, “You had your Bible in your pocket?”
“I had my Bible someplace. But I can’t find it now. I don’t know where it’s at. I must have left it at home. When I went to bed, I must have left it. It must have come out of my pocket in the bed. It’s the only thing I can figure.”
“We’ll make sure you find it,” I reassure him as we exit the car.
“It has to be that way. I usually have it in my pocket.”
“I know.”
“It could be in my shirt pocket, but it’s not there.” He looked down his front. “It must have come out when I was in the bed.”
“We’re going to look for it when we get back. You’ve got to have that.”
I ushered him to a seat as I checked in with the receptionist.
“The doctor’s gonna examine me?” Pepaw asked.
“Yep.”
Pause.
“Maybe he’ll give me some kind of pill to cure different things.”
“Yep. You feeling okay?”
“It’s sure cold outside.” He said his hunting coat would be a lot warmer. I should have known the thermal sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough, but I was rushed. My fault.
“We gotta wait on the doctor to get here?”
“Yep.” I wonder how many times he’ll ask this time. I thought the last doctor’s visit was a marathon …
I showed him a couple of magazines. He studied the covers. Guess there was nothing of interest to him. That’s okay. Nothing interested me either.
“The doctor’s taking a long time to get here, ain’t he?”
“Yep, it’s always hurry up and wait.”
Two or three minutes passed.
“I don’t want to sit here for an hour,” he said.
“Let’s give her a few more minutes.”
“I’m ready to go. Are you?” He started to lean forward.
I rested my hand on his arm as I quietly repeated, “Let’s give her a few more minutes.”
Pepaw was speaking at full volume in the waiting room. There were several people grinning at us. I nodded and smiled in return.
“I’m ready to go. Are you?” He was in repeat mode.
“Did you get a haircut?” I point to his baseball cap. “Looks nice.”
“Yep.”
Good. Distraction still works well … for a few minutes.
“I’m ready to go. Are you?”
“How about we —”
Continued tomorrow.
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