90th
Yesterday was my father’s 90th birthday. It’s an interesting landmark for a man who, when he was born, wasn’t supposed to live until morning. Or a man who, when he had a major heart attack at 45, wasn’t supposed to last much into his 60s. Or a man who, when he was in his early 70s and was treated for prostate cancer, was told that there was no possibility that he’d live long enough for it to kill him if it did come back. It hasn’t, but if it does, I’m not taking any bets.
He’s slowed down since Christmas. He’s now at the point where his cognitive processors can’t handle sentences of more than about five words, incoming or outgoing. He’s also a little deaf, at least in the left ear, so conversation is a bit of a challenge. Most of the time, when he comes in from left field, I can figure out where he’s been, but every once in awhile I’m mystified. Then again, that was always the case, as far back as I can remember.
I can’t help but wonder how much better his life might have been if there had been diagnosis and treatment for depression and ADD when he was younger. At least now his depressesion is being treated. I think it’s too late for the other and I doubt, with his heart, if his doctor would be willing to try stimulants in any event.
One thing that hasn’t changed is that when he makes up his mind, it’s not good to confuse him with facts. Back at Christmas, he knew that he was going to be 90 this year. However, since then, something changed. Yesterday he was determined that he was 80 and it was not well received when I said otherwise. You’d think that after all these years, I would have learned.
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Happy Birthday wishes to your dad, Wendy.
It is so good to be reading your entries again!
Carol
I’ll add my happies and glads, too, Wendy. 90? I hope he makes it past 100…
I had to laugh at your dad insisting he’s 10 years younger than he is. My grandmother has, for years, as soon as she turns a certain age, started to say she’s the next year higher. Ninetieth birthday party was yesterday? “I’m 91 you know,” she says to new people she meets, “well, almost.” I think this looking forward to the future age with pride is keeping her going.
Also she’s been diabetic for years and when I insist she eat something for supper even when she isn’t hungry, and say she should because she’s diabetic, she snarls “I’m not diabetic! Who told you that?”
Oh my, what we have to look forward to. Not that it bothers her any, so when it’s my turn, I guess I too will have other fish to fry. She’s probably got her priorities quite straight!