Mom called tonight. Her voice sounding of frustration and exasperation. She said, “Chris, I don’t know what to do. Your father has been sitting in the garage for the past 45-minutes.”
Dad turns 80 March 31st.
Dad had polio when he was a child and now, many years later he struggles with post-polio syndrome. Throughout his life, he has been bothered by these symptoms. Never did I hear him complain despite the pain and frustration which I saw on his face. He did his best to hide it. He would grimace and if caught, he would pass it off as “just a pain.” He now struggles with legs which have not supported any weight in several years, his breathing labored and crackling because of a diagnosis of COPD. His legs are weights which serve to provide him only balance when he sits in his chair.
I grew up watching him limp yet every day he rose and did what he needed to do to support his family. His health did not allow him to do the things most kids want their fathers to do. We didn’t throw a football or a baseball but I know he loved us.
In 1990 he made the decision to retire. Physically he began to break down and the struggle became more visible. His limp became more pronounced yet complaints were never heard. What I did hear were reminders to always stay strong and to see the good in things. To see and respect what you have instead of what you don’t.
Tonight was difficult. I drove the short distance to my parents’ home. The garage door was closed and my mom waited at the front door. I entered the house and then the garage to find my dad sitting on the scooter in which he had been sitting for the past 45-minutes. It took him another 20-minutes with my help to transition to his other chair and then up the ramp into the house.
His breathing remains labored and difficult to hear. His lungs rattle. The other night my mother, who often sleeps very little as she lays by his side listening to his breathing, “almost called 911.” He begged her not to.
The pain and frustration remain on his face. It is clear to the one who reads his facial expressions. Thos who don’t know him believe he is “doing really well for his age.” Thos who know him and are willing to see it, see the struggle.
2 thoughts on “Dad”
Dear Chris, I’m sorry to hear of your fathers struggles. He sounds like a wonderful, courageous man who gave you the tools to become a strong, giving man. You are a reflection of him. Its so hard to watch our parents fade away, my best advice is just to be there for them… you will never have regrets. Peace.
Thank you Jane. I am so grateful for the tools which he has given to me. I have done the best job I can to pass those tools along to my own children and to those individuals with whom I complete therapy.