Another journey

Two weeks ago my father, who lives with us, went into the hospital. His kidneys had begun to fail, and his blood was so thin we were in danger of a bleedout. Our doctor wanted us to put him in a nursing home. Everyone said "no!" including Dad. By the time he got out of the hospital he was much better, and we brought him home. But the hip he has broken twice is very deteriorated and could easily break again. He's not allowed to use his walker any more; so he has a wheelchair. Home health and physical therapy are coming to our house.

So life has changed, again. We give Dad his pills--he doesn't do them himself any more. My husband Bruce is helping him with his bills, and is home with him most of the time since I accompany Fort Zumwalt South's choirs and I'm pretty busy up there right now. With my bad back, Bruce is the one who transfers Dad from the wheelchair to his bed or a chair. We sleep with a baby monitor so we can hear if Dad needs help.

Dad is afraid he's a burden. He's not, of course. He's one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet, and easy to live with. Bruce has grown to love him like a father. He spent a lot of years taking care of me--it's my turn to help him.

But yes, there's an added stress to life now. I have never had children, so being a caregiver is a new thing for me--the responsibility, the planning ahead so someone is available to come over if you're going out, a thousand little things. But I know now that while I may not have foreseen this, God was preparing me for it for a long time. I didn't realize that until this morning during church. But that's another story.