Camping with the family was a good time. It had awkward moments for certain.
The most obvious was the fact that my father never left the camper the entire time.
My parents replaced their fifth wheel trailer with an RV. They also had the longest drive of the pack, which took a toll on my dad’s knee and feet. He is overweight. he has adult-onset diabetes. He fights cellulitis in his legs pretty bad.
Turns out the drive was too much without any opportunities to put up his feet. And his knees have begun deteriorating due to his weight and health. He was rejected for knee replacement since he can’t keep off enough weight to get him through the recovery period.
My mom needed help from neighboring campers to get him from the cab to the back of the camper. This was before the rest of us arrived. They understand now that in the future he should just ride in the back for long trips, where he can elevate his feet as they travel. That is an advantage of an RV…
There was a message from my mom waiting for me when I got back to KCMO. Dad is in the hospital with a bad flair up of cellulitis. The doctor drew some of the fluid from his knee to relieve the pressure and got blood instead. No answer as to why yet.
This should all bother me more than it does.
I love my father.
That said. I have never once in my lifetime seen him take control of his health. I have watched year after year, decade after decade as his bad habits and lack of focus have left him in a failing state of health.
I have been waiting for his death for a long time now it seems. I am not wholly sure that is an awful thing to say. It feels like the simple truth of it. I have no shock and drama left about it. It has been on the horizon staring at me for most of my life. I never thought he would live passed sixty-five. He is now seventy-two.
Curious thing: all weekend, he kept apologizing to me about the portable urinals on the floor, since it was too painful for him to stand, and the water pills made the flow almost constant. It was like he forgot that I went through chemotherapy. Of course, my mom was the parent that saw most of it. I wish he would have apologized for never taking care of himself in a timely manner. That would have had more weight.
In my heart, I think I am clear of bitterness and resentment. That was all much earlier in my life, but I just don’t have much more to invest.
I suppose the best twist about all of this would be the fact that my father is a big influence on my own weight struggle. I am living much healthier now, because he never managed to do so.
There may just be something to the concept that the behaviors of children are exactly like their parents or nothing at all…
gryphon's hole 