'Doing' for Dad

'DOING' FOR DAD

I'm concerned that Dad is forgetting to eat (or just doesn't feel hungry, a known side-effect of dementia). He didn't eat tea last night - I found it still in the bag marked TEA I leave in the fridge for him everyday. He hadn't had breakfast either because he was worried that he didn't have enough milk (he usually needs at least 2 pints spare to know that he has 'enough'). I caught him watering it down once to eek it out.

So, I call him mid-evening to check whether he's eaten the sandwiches, banana and cake I've left for him. As he answers the phone I can tell he's surprised to hear my voice, despite me being there everyday to 'do' for him:

"Oh, hello, my love. How are you?"

"I'm fine Dad. I was just ringing to see if you've eaten the tea I left for you in the fridge."

"Oh, yes, I did, yes."

Because I know he says 'Yes' to everythiing (it's his default setting), this won't do...

"Well, I'd like to be sure. Would you go and check please?"

Amenable as ever, he chirps "Righto! Just a minute..."

Pause. I can hear him in the kitchen moving things around. A few minutes later, he's back:

"What am I looking for again?"

"Can you just go and look in the FRIDGE to see if your sandwiches are there? Only if they are, you haven't eaten them."

"Oh, well, I'm sure I did have some tea..."

"Yes, but that may have been yesterday. I'll wait while you go and look."

Unruffled, "Alright. Just a minute..."

Again, I can hear him in the kitchen, fiddling with what sounds like the wooden bread bin. "Yes, I've got some fruit scones there."

"In the bread bin, yes, I know, but have you eaten your tea that's in a bag in the FRIDGE marked TEA?"

 Realising that if he has actually eaten it, he's looking  for a bag that's no longer there, I feel compelled to offer the alernative scenario as an option. So I add, unhelpfully, "If you've eaten it, it won't be there." At this point I sense I'm sunk.

Cheerful as ever, comes the reply, "Righto. Just a minute..."

Once again I hear him padding off to the kitchen. Ever hopeful, I convince myself that this time he'll open the fridge, find the bag marked TEA, and realise he needs to take it out of the fridge and eat the contents.

I hear him returning.

"Yes, I've got some fruit scones there."

Time to surrender.

"Don't worry Dad, I'll be round in 10 minutes."

The next day I write out a sign and attach it to the front of the fridge with his fridge magnets. I'm hoping that the new arrangement won't prompt him to take the sign down. It reads simply, 'YOUR TEA IS IN HERE'

Footnote:

This is an abridged version of a diary entry from January 2019, two months before Dad passed away.

The actual sequence has been shortened.