Notes from Maine - 2020/09/06

Pessimism makes me angry—sometimes.

When people use it as an excuse to not put forth effort, it makes me angry. For a while, my father was saying that he didn’t have to do his daily exercise because, “They’re going to put me in a nursing home.”

I have no idea who “They” are. Several times a week we travel back to his house to interview potential caregivers or make adjustments so that he will be safe and comfortable there. We moved his TV and recliner to the first floor. We replaced the toilet. We tried different heights for his bed.

His limited vision of the future was based on his physical state, and it was also preventing him from getting to a better physical state.

We (my siblings & I) tried everything—logic, pleading, yelling, and dangling rewards. Eventually, I think the thing that changed his attitude was fear. He began to accept that he was going home and he was afraid of being at home without being able to take care of himself. He won’t have to be self-sufficient—I’m arranging for 24/7 care for him in the beginning—but the price of that also scared him.

He’s doing much better. Dad couldn’t sit up on his own when he came here, and now he can walk more than twenty feet in a walker. He can climb stairs on a good day.

He’s still pessimistic.

It still makes me angry—sometimes.