Daddy lived alone on the farm for several years after Uncle Fatty died. But when he was in his mid-90's, he needed someone with him 24/7. My brother Jim had recently become a widower, so he sold his house and moved into the farmhouse with Daddy. Jim was already semi-retired from the insurance business, accustomed to working from a home office, and decided he could manage his business just as well from the farm as from anywhere else. His three children were on their own, raising families in different cities, so Jim had nothing holding him to the city where he was living. Jim brought a lot of furniture with him when he moved to the farm. It helped to fill up some of the big rooms in the house that were mostly empty, making it more attractive and comfortable. Daddy seemed glad to have Jim living with him. It was a good thing for both of them to have this time together, just being father and son again.
Jim was the only one of us six kids that could take on this kind of a move to be with Daddy. Me and my sisters all live far away in different states. Four of us were still working full-time and could not afford to leave our jobs. We were grateful that Jim stepped up to the plate. He had already been doing a lot to help Daddy since he was the closest one of us to him, living only an hour away. Moving in with Daddy would be easier on Jim too. He would no longer need to drive back and forth four or five times a week to check on Daddy, make sure he had food, that his house was being cleaned and his laundry done by the two Amish ladies we had hired.
Several months after Jim moved in, Daddy's legs began to weaken more than they already had. It was a serious problem for Daddy when it became difficult for him to stand on his own. Now it had reached the point where if he was not in bed, Daddy had to be helped in and out of his wheelchair. He could barely lift and move the weight of his unresponsive legs by himself, and Jim had difficulty lifting him too. Daddy was a big man and too heavy for one person to manage alone. A physical laborer his whole life, Daddy had always been a strong man, able to do whatever he wanted. He hated becoming so helpless and obviously struggled with losing the last vestiges of his independence.
Daily nursing service was expensive. We contracted for the weekly services of two county nurses. They alternated visits to the house twice a week. They would check on Daddy's vital signs, medicine intake, and give him baths. Just make sure he was doing OK. They both developed a nice relationship with Daddy, and he enjoyed their fussing and all of the attention. Though to hear it from him, they were just an aggravation. At any rate, their help was a boon to Jim and gave the rest of us some peace of mind knowing Daddy was being taken care of.
We could tell the time was coming sooner than we hoped when Daddy's needs could no longer be met at home. We waited as long as we could to deal with this issue because Daddy loved being at the farm. It had been home to him for many years, and we wanted to keep him there as long as we could. Although we did not come right out and say it, I think we all knew that when Daddy had to be moved to a nursing home, the end would not be far behind. He would give up, just quit trying.
Sad to say, we were right.
YOU ARE READING
The Family Pecking Order -- A Memoir
Non-FictionFollowing the death of my father, memories and feelings came flooding out after the experience of attending his funeral. Where was I in the "pecking order" of my family? How did such a thing as birth order affect my life?
