Dad.

The role reversal.

Somewhere along the line, I'm not sure I could pin down exactly when , the role of parenting seems to have been reversed. It wasn't a sudden change , more of a gradual shift in situation, priorities and health.

However, although it is still assumed by most acquaintances  when I say my parents live locally that we get plenty of help with the children, the reality is quite the opposite - I am the care giver not receiver. My Dad and Step mum actually moved into the next street to be nearer to us , so I could help out if needed.

My Dad has Parkinsons.

He gets very confused.

He is not very mobile and sometimes cannot move at all.

He lives at home with my step mum who is amazing and without her he would be in a nursing home. She fights hard for his care and organises his life so he goes places and does things . 

But she needs a break too.

 So, I have my Dad for a day when I can.

 I help with bits of care when my step mum is away .

 I take him shopping for bits and pieces he wants and out for coffee at garden centres ( they have larger aisles for his walker) .I  help when she goes away with the rota of care that she puts together - a combination of carers and family to look after him just so she can have  a few days away without him. It keeps her sane. Sometimes it is as simple as popping in , like today, for an hour to give him lunch.

 But I didn't feel like it.

I knew it would be hard and I was tired.

Sometimes I wish I still had parents who could come and help me - how selfish is that when he is going through so much?

I know it's because I am tired - weeks of demanding children, a husband who is working every hour that he can find, too much to fit in my busy schedule at the moment, children who still need more and I'm stretched. I felt I had nothing left. Everybody wanting a piece of me.

The moment I walked in and forced myself to call out a cheery " Hi Dad" and saw him sitting there drooling, with chocolate all around his mouth, talking nonsense about whether he had fixed the rail for the curtain correctly, I knew he was off colour and it was going to be tough. For the record he won't have been near fixing a curtain rail for the past 10 years. His mind plucks random information from the past and thrusts it into the present making it seem real to him.

But, there are times when I just can't listen to him talk rubbish again.

There are times when I have to hide how I am feeling from him.

There are times when, if I am totally honest, it just annoys me - how bad is that?

 I was so tired I had nothing inventive to say at that moment so I wandered into the kitchen to make sandwiches and a cup of strong tea for him. He had always been very driven and motivated by his own ambitions and I think this illness brings the worst of that side out of him . He focuses only on himself, no one else, but then wouldn't I - it is an awful , lonely walk and I have cried with him many a time. They say to try and separate the person from the illness helps you to cope, but they are so intertwined now that is hard to do.

Don't get me wrong , I love my Dad and I would do anything for him, but I spend hours popping pills in his mouth, manhandling him into the car to take him out for some fresh air, listening to his ramblings that often drift in and out of sense.....sometimes I would like to hear him ask in his moments of lucidity, how I am, but he never does anymore. Sometimes it is much too hard to see your 'Dad' sitting there like that, but he is not your ' Dad' anymore. No one asks me if I am dealing with it alright - I am just expected to.

Somewhere along the line his role as " Dad" changed , but I couldn't tell you when that was, only that the father I once knew isn't there anymore. 

But I can't grieve for his passing because he hasn't died .

I can't give up on him because he IS still my Dad.

The Dad I remember left long ago. I  can't pinpoint when, he just kind of got swallowed up gradually by this disease until there was not much left apart from a vague physical resemblance.

So what do you do?

You sleep.

You recharge your batteries.

You put a smile on your face and you continue to choose to love and care because the day will come when you won't be able to anymore. 

You do that because if you don't, who will?

You do that because deep down you'd want someone to do it for you.

You do that because you do deeply love him.

You do that so you won't one day regret that you didn't.