A Sense of Humor Matters

August 14, 2010

Dad has been in Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy for a month now. Signs of physical improvement are so great he was released from OT this week and PT has been reduced to twice a week. But as his physical capabilities have increased, his mental capabilities have slowly been decreasing.
At a doctor’s appointment on Friday, Dad was asked to fill out a questionnaire. He asked me how old his parents were when they died and what their medical history was (2 questions I don’t know the answers to). When I told him I wasn’t sure, he proceeded to make up answers. He couldn’t remember how many children he has, their ages or if they are living or deceased. Finally, he became to frustrated to finish it and asked me if I would do it for him. My heart breaks to watch him struggle with the tiniest of things, things that most of us take for granted every day in our own lives.
On a note of levity, I cracked up when I came to the section regarding his educational background. He had listed that he had completed 2 years of college, then checked the box that said, “reads and writes poorly”. I explained they were trying to determine literacy. He insisted (with a twinkle in his eyes), that he can’t even read his own writing.
For almost every negative we encounter together, he manages to find humor somehow, and for that I am eternally grateful.
When the doctor came into the examining room, he announced that the lab work looked good. I was overjoyed to hear that his kidney function had gone from 32% three months ago to 50% currently. The doctor and I both burst out laughing at his cheerful response, “That’s great! Now I can start pissing on myself more often!”

Tonight ended on rather a sour note. Dad lives for watching football games on TV. It doesn’t matter who is playing, or what league it is, and he usually has it muted so you can’t hear a thing. It doesn’t matter to him it’s about WATCHING the game. He asked me all day what day it was. And I told him repeatedly it was Sat. He started looking for a game on TV about 7:00. After an hour of me trying to check the listings on the TV Guide channel, with him taking the remote away periodically to channel surf (his version, which means randomly pushing buttons or not pointing it at the TV when he IS pushing them), he finally gave up. Not because he believed there wasn’t a game on, but rather because he was angry he couldn’t locate the one he was sure WAS on.
He insisted there had to be one on because the newspaper had listed all of today’s game times. I tried to point out it didn’t say anything about it being on TV. In a fit of pique, he threw down the newspaper and the remote and announced he was going to bed because “the damn TV is broken anyway!”

We’ll see what tomorrow brings…