Rock On Rock On

After 4 plus years, I've re-titled this blog to reflect its focus: "Aging Quirky: Karen's Chronicle." I'm shifting gears, officially unemployed as of July 18 to spend more time with Dad and accelerate my patient advocacy certification. To summarize my visit over the last 3 days: a roller coaster. I had a trifecta of school work, job work and caregiver work. My father has been receiving physical therapy and making progress with his leg strength, however it leaves him exhausted. So yesterday morning when I found him shaking with confusion, unable to insert his dental bridge, shoes on wrong feet, hearing aid lost, I was alarmed. Somehow he rallied with my help. I stuffed a banana in his recovered mouth and off we went to back pain specialists and rehab/massage. When he got his appetite back and had 2 helpings at the ice cream social later in the day, I knew he was back on track.

Although Sid's memory is fraying, his sense of humor is intact. I found out that his childhood nickname was "Ninny", apparently due to being the baby of his family. We went to the beach to watch the waves, then Costco for hot dogs (extra sauerkraut), and then popped into infamous Thursday happy hour at the retirement village, where everyone sings and gets slightly loopy. Dad informed the group that "hors d'oeuvres" is French for "lost eggs" so he's not senile quite yet. Meanwhile I scheduled 3 MRIs and an echocardiogram, as he's being "assessed" for future body work. I drank a mystery cocktail which had the weird effect of seeing my mother's face on all the ladies (even when I'm sober, her ghost still appears at odd times, like when I was folding Dad's laundry last night. She was chuckling about my female servitude.)

My best accomplishment? I convinced the Activities Director that an onsite Thriller Dance performance, with me teaching the residents, would be awesome. I'll be in town for a month this Fall, with lots of time. I can adapt the routine for those using walkers and wheelchairs, and for people who don't need makeup to look like old zombies. Think of the scene from "The Producers" with the old girls funding a tasteless Broadway show and you'll get the idea. I need to figure out the details, and possibly explain who Michael Jackson was, but it's sure to be a future YouTube hit.

I'm on my way back to Seattle, where I will unpack and repack for a weekend of kayak camping where all I have to do is paddle and not be responsible for anything. I think I need it.