Getting dad ready in the morning is usually the most stressful time. What would normally take 45 minutes, he can drag out to 2.5 hours.
So one day a week I get a break as a home nursing assistant, Alicia, helps him shave, take a shower, dress his pressure sore, and get dressed and to the table.
Alicia doesn’t take any shit, and he knows it. Any alteration from the prescribed course of events is met with consistent and firm, but kind and gentle pressure. Resistance is futile. And, since a woman is involved, he’s all about dressing to impress. She gets him all done in 1/2 hour.
This morning I’m in the living room, secretly listening in as she works with him when I hear the walker starting to clatter quickly across the bathroom tile floor. He’s making a break for it. He’s escaping!
Dad (mumbling, making a beeline to the bed): I gotta get back inta bed, offa my feets.
Alicia: Ya can move fast when you wanna. Hold on! I’m right behind you!
He abruptly stops at the edge of the bed, casts the walker aside, turns around and with legs spread and hernia exposed to the world, plops down backwards onto the bed, naked, with legs in the air.
Dad (excitedly, motioning toward himself): Come on, I’m ready for ya!
Alicia (standing in bathroom doorway, lets out a short startled snort/laugh): Hmmfrff.
Dad (apologetically, embarrassed): I’m just joking!
Alicia (hand on hip, waiving finger at him, laughing): I know you are!