Today Was Good

Dad can't get up at a decent hour anymore. Often he doesn't get dressed, but will stay in his pajamas for days unless he has to go to the doctor or get out for a drive. Today Mom and Dad decided to take me and my younger brother, Ken, for a drive to see their favorite mountain spots. Dad doesn't drive any more, unless you count driving Mom crazy! From the passenger seat Dad directs the day with a running patter of conversation.

Topics of Conversation or Random Comments:

* Enzyte. I don't know why this is such a running topic of conversation, but "Bob" repels and amuses him greatly. It allows him to mention subjects I would rather not talk about, and once upon a time he would never have discussed in my presence.

* Bathroom Cleanliness. This has always been a topic of intense interest in my family, so nothing new here.

* The Gospel According to Dracula. I don't even know how to describe this, as I couldn't really follow the arguments.

* Dogs Barking. Really. There were dogs barking. Dogs, I tell you. But they will be geese when Dad tells the story. And he will.

* Dying. His own death is a frequent topic of conversation, remarks peppered throughout the day, especially in regard to what to do with his books, so they can be marketed properly once Dad is gone.

* Urinary Tract Infections. Yes, I know your immediate response. It is my response as well. Turn to the window, stick your fingers in your ears and hum.

* How fast/slow Mom is driving. This includes quizzing her on traffic signs to determine if she is paying attention. The good thing about this is that it means HE is paying attention.

* What jobs he could (still) get to make money.

* The girls he dated before mom.

* Greek Grammar. Most every subject turns into this subject, proving what his mind is constantly thinking about.

* "Stop and take a picture of that mountain!" The first time he ordered, "Stop!" Mom sweeps onto the shoulder, braking sharply to a halt just feet before a reflector pole. A large motorhome whizzes by, barely missing ramming our back end. I'm not sure how I managed not to scream like that guy in the Capital One commercials.

* "These roads, they all lead to somewhere." Skip a beat. Then the entire car erupts in laughter. This line will be muttered under my breath while passing various roads for the rest of the trip.

We had lunch/dinner at a small restaurant in Sisters, Oregon. Dad's blood sugar was low, so he had a BBQ sandwich. The sauce dripped down his white beard, staining it red. His thinking wasn't clear, so he kept telling everyone working in the restaurant that he thought he was getting a french dip. A french dip could still have run down his chin...

He is in such pain. I wonder how much he is pushing himself to be pleasant company. He is trying, so I accept that in the way it is intended. And, oh, how I wish he wasn't hurting, suffering from infections, having the problems with his blood sugar. I wish he could move as he used to, enjoy the outdoors like he wants to. And I wish I wasn't so restless visiting here.