Purgatory: It's Not Just For Catholics Anymore.

The last five days have literally flown by. I suppose that’s what happens when you haven’t slept in that many days. The old man spent one night in hospital and then we brought him home. It made sense at the time however I cannot for the life of me remember why at this moment.

That first night, when I left the hospital without my dad, I actually felt a bit depressed. Yes, he drives me crazy. Yes, he got hurt by acting ugly. Yes, it was my chance for a bit of rest. No, I didn’t get any because I kept waking up all night worrying about him. The weird thing is, so did Bob.

The next morning, we made the decision to bring him home since pain management and PT could both be accomplished in the comfort of his familiar surroundings. That, and he was driving everyone nuts with his complaining that he wanted out of that prison.

Caring for an elderly parent is not all that different from having a young child. They are noisy, messy, inappropriate in more ways than you ever expected before having one and they demand every second of every minute of every day of your life that they‘re with you. Yet, the minute they are out of your sight, you miss them, worry about them and wish they were home with you. There is definitely something wrong with parents and caregivers, but I fear there is no fix for either.

Come to find out, not only is his left hip fractured but he has another UTI. This, only two weeks after the last one. Of course, this means he has to make bathroom runs more often than the average person blinks. Since he cannot walk yet, “somebody” has to get him in the wheelchair, roll him to the commode, help him up and pants down. Once the king is on his throne, “somebody” can step out and pray a short prayer, usually something along the lines of, “God, I am sorry for everything I have ever done in my entire life. No, seriously, I mean it this time.” Then it is back to the throne room to de-throne the king and you don’t want details here, believe me.

Repeating this bedroom to bathroom run approximately fifteen to twenty times every twenty-four hour period has convinced me of something. I was wrong. There is a purgatory and it is in Piedmont, Oklahoma.