I Don't Want Fingerprints
A friend suggested that writing a blog about my parents might be a way for me to find some solace, or at least some humor, in the whole thing. So here goes - let's see if I manage to keep this up.
I take care of my parents, who do not live with me nor do they live together. They live in a community which includes independent living, assisted living, and skilled nursing care. Originally, they had a duplex together; now mom is in assisted living and dad in in skilled nursing.
Mom has normal pressure hydrocephalus and is losing her memory. She has terrible balance and tends to hunch over to use her walker, no matter what the therapist says.
Dad has mid-stage Parkinson's, which sometimes makes him weak enough he needs to use a wheelchair, though he uses a walker when he can.
Saturday, Mom calls me to tell me that her computer doesn't work and her phone keeps asking for a fingerprint, which she doesn't want. I told her I'm not coming over, but eventually I give in. Mainly to stop her from calling again and again.
Her iPhone, which we got a few years ago so she could use Uber once she couldn't drive anymore, did an update and is asking for her to do the fingerprint scan. All she needs to do is cancel that and move on, but she tells me she's pressed cancel and the phone isn't listening to her. I fix it. Next time it does an update, I'm sure I'll fix it again.
She wants to write a Christmas letter, but can't find her email to write it. She also tells me her computer doesn't recognize her PIN. Wait, her computer needs a PIN? "Yes, it's my room number. 0466"
That makes sense. But her room number is 0446. So we get into the computer, I open up Libre something, which is her word processing program, and open a document so she can write her letter. She really wants to write it in her email, but that doesn't make sense, so I convince her to write in the document and let her know I'll come print it when it's done. I write down instructions for her to access and save the document, but I bet she'll call in a few days again.
While I'm there, we go through her walker basket, which is stuffed with random crap. Three medication lists, a few CDs that the computer won't open, pictures, various unopened mail from a few months ago, and a crushed package of Rolos, which have gotten all over everything. I clean it up, put everything she needs in a nice flowered zipper bag, and her walker is now clean. And she can fit a book in it while she's waiting for a ride from Home and Health so she can have dinner with dad every night.
She then mentions that Dad took a picture of the amaryllis that Thea (a friend) gave him, but he doesn't know how to send it and she KNOWS Thea is disappointed. I'm not sure Thea cares, but I agree to go over to Dad's, take a picture, and send it.
She tells me I'm snarky. I tell her I know and she'll have to deal with that today, since I came over in pajamas and no bra - I was looking forward to an afternoon of nothing.
I head to Dad's, take the picture, and email it to Thea. I haven't heard back from Thea about it yet.
I go in to check on Dad and he's messing around with Wells Fargo, not able to access. He asks me if I changed the password and I let him know that my account is different than his, even though we access the same bank account. I help him get in and he shows me the statements, which actually come to me in the mail, so I'm good.
I head home for nothing about two hours after I left, trying not to break into the alcohol before dinner.
I take care of my parents, who do not live with me nor do they live together. They live in a community which includes independent living, assisted living, and skilled nursing care. Originally, they had a duplex together; now mom is in assisted living and dad in in skilled nursing.
Mom has normal pressure hydrocephalus and is losing her memory. She has terrible balance and tends to hunch over to use her walker, no matter what the therapist says.
Dad has mid-stage Parkinson's, which sometimes makes him weak enough he needs to use a wheelchair, though he uses a walker when he can.
Saturday, Mom calls me to tell me that her computer doesn't work and her phone keeps asking for a fingerprint, which she doesn't want. I told her I'm not coming over, but eventually I give in. Mainly to stop her from calling again and again.
Her iPhone, which we got a few years ago so she could use Uber once she couldn't drive anymore, did an update and is asking for her to do the fingerprint scan. All she needs to do is cancel that and move on, but she tells me she's pressed cancel and the phone isn't listening to her. I fix it. Next time it does an update, I'm sure I'll fix it again.
She wants to write a Christmas letter, but can't find her email to write it. She also tells me her computer doesn't recognize her PIN. Wait, her computer needs a PIN? "Yes, it's my room number. 0466"
That makes sense. But her room number is 0446. So we get into the computer, I open up Libre something, which is her word processing program, and open a document so she can write her letter. She really wants to write it in her email, but that doesn't make sense, so I convince her to write in the document and let her know I'll come print it when it's done. I write down instructions for her to access and save the document, but I bet she'll call in a few days again.
While I'm there, we go through her walker basket, which is stuffed with random crap. Three medication lists, a few CDs that the computer won't open, pictures, various unopened mail from a few months ago, and a crushed package of Rolos, which have gotten all over everything. I clean it up, put everything she needs in a nice flowered zipper bag, and her walker is now clean. And she can fit a book in it while she's waiting for a ride from Home and Health so she can have dinner with dad every night.
She then mentions that Dad took a picture of the amaryllis that Thea (a friend) gave him, but he doesn't know how to send it and she KNOWS Thea is disappointed. I'm not sure Thea cares, but I agree to go over to Dad's, take a picture, and send it.
She tells me I'm snarky. I tell her I know and she'll have to deal with that today, since I came over in pajamas and no bra - I was looking forward to an afternoon of nothing.
I head to Dad's, take the picture, and email it to Thea. I haven't heard back from Thea about it yet.
I go in to check on Dad and he's messing around with Wells Fargo, not able to access. He asks me if I changed the password and I let him know that my account is different than his, even though we access the same bank account. I help him get in and he shows me the statements, which actually come to me in the mail, so I'm good.
I head home for nothing about two hours after I left, trying not to break into the alcohol before dinner.
Comments
Post a Comment