Phone, clock, computer
By Mike on Monday 28 January 2008, 02:59 - Journal - Permalink
According to the phone bill I saw this week, dad called me 261 times last
month.
The majority of these calls was, ostensibly, to ask me the time or what day it was. I've grown increasingly impatient with this pointless ritual. Pointless, because no matter what I say, dad will probably call within minutes to ask the same question. Pointless because he doesn't need to know the time or the day. Pointless because the call is just to have someone to talk to and I seem to be the least useful in that respect, since I hate small talk at the best of times.
So, just like in the old days, I decided to try to fix this problem. I went searching for the largest, clearest clock I could find, in particular hoping to find one that also gave the day and the date. I visited six shops before I found what I was looking for. It is about 30 cms in diameter, white face, black numerals, and it hangs right above the telephone. The analogue hands tell the time. A digital LCD window tells the day and date. Now when dad asks me the time I refer him to the clock only a couple of feet in front of his face. I ask him to tell me what it says.
The computer now runs only one program: Microsoft Calendar. It automatically displays a weekly calendar, with the current day highlighted. Dad still uses this to find out what day it is and what is meant to happen each day. All our regular visits are listed there, as is his weekly trip to the day care centre, and the visits of the community services people who make the meals. The problem is that the computer is in the bedroom (mum insisted on this). This means that even if dad has consulted the computer and verified the day, by the time he has walked back to the lounge, he has probably forgotten.
The new clock was meant to fix all that. It did not get off to a good start, though. Dad wondered why he needed a clock. Because you make hundreds of unnecessary phone calls to ask me the time, I said. He wondered why it had to be so big. So you can see it without having to press your face up against it. He said that mum would never agree to it hanging over the phone - actually, she seemed delighted with it. He was determined to find fault with it. After I had set it, he insisted that he couldn't read it. Then, undermining that claim, he pointed out that it didn't agree with the other clocks in the house - further weakening the justification for all the phone calls. This went on and on. While mum was happy to sit and just look up at the clock with and admiring smile, dad was determined to show it was a bad thing. The day I bought it I left in disgust.
However, I think the clock might, just a little perhaps, be beginning to work. The phone calls seem to have dried up. Dad's resistance seems to have weakened, and mum is just as happy with it.
So, I've removed the excuse, but not the reason for the phone calls. I am getting a bit more peace, but I'm not really helping dad. He's not getting any more company, and he's not getting someone to talk to. It's a good example of what I mean when I say that, upon honest self-examination, I have to conclude that I don't really care.
The majority of these calls was, ostensibly, to ask me the time or what day it was. I've grown increasingly impatient with this pointless ritual. Pointless, because no matter what I say, dad will probably call within minutes to ask the same question. Pointless because he doesn't need to know the time or the day. Pointless because the call is just to have someone to talk to and I seem to be the least useful in that respect, since I hate small talk at the best of times.
So, just like in the old days, I decided to try to fix this problem. I went searching for the largest, clearest clock I could find, in particular hoping to find one that also gave the day and the date. I visited six shops before I found what I was looking for. It is about 30 cms in diameter, white face, black numerals, and it hangs right above the telephone. The analogue hands tell the time. A digital LCD window tells the day and date. Now when dad asks me the time I refer him to the clock only a couple of feet in front of his face. I ask him to tell me what it says.
The computer now runs only one program: Microsoft Calendar. It automatically displays a weekly calendar, with the current day highlighted. Dad still uses this to find out what day it is and what is meant to happen each day. All our regular visits are listed there, as is his weekly trip to the day care centre, and the visits of the community services people who make the meals. The problem is that the computer is in the bedroom (mum insisted on this). This means that even if dad has consulted the computer and verified the day, by the time he has walked back to the lounge, he has probably forgotten.
The new clock was meant to fix all that. It did not get off to a good start, though. Dad wondered why he needed a clock. Because you make hundreds of unnecessary phone calls to ask me the time, I said. He wondered why it had to be so big. So you can see it without having to press your face up against it. He said that mum would never agree to it hanging over the phone - actually, she seemed delighted with it. He was determined to find fault with it. After I had set it, he insisted that he couldn't read it. Then, undermining that claim, he pointed out that it didn't agree with the other clocks in the house - further weakening the justification for all the phone calls. This went on and on. While mum was happy to sit and just look up at the clock with and admiring smile, dad was determined to show it was a bad thing. The day I bought it I left in disgust.
However, I think the clock might, just a little perhaps, be beginning to work. The phone calls seem to have dried up. Dad's resistance seems to have weakened, and mum is just as happy with it.
So, I've removed the excuse, but not the reason for the phone calls. I am getting a bit more peace, but I'm not really helping dad. He's not getting any more company, and he's not getting someone to talk to. It's a good example of what I mean when I say that, upon honest self-examination, I have to conclude that I don't really care.
Comments
Please do not be so hard on yourself: your final line says "I have to conlude that I do not really care."
You do care, these are your parents and you are still trying to help them (hence the multi-store mission to locate a big clock, install it and answer the grumbles about why it is needed).
You are getting frustrated (as all Alzheimers' families do) but you have not given up caring. I can see that.
Please be gentler on yourself. Alz is a nasty illness that turns our loved ones into people we do not recognize and whose difficulties we cannot solve.