Learning to adjust

My Dad's behavior becomes steadily a study to watch. He is awake all day. He can do only one task at a time now. The ability to comprehend is going away. I have to repeat myself very slowly each time I answer his repeated questions. I am now the adult which is a bizarre twist that I cannot readily digest in one chunk.

We watch him continually now. He sits downstairs by the woodstove and tries to watch TV because he thinks he must guard the stove from both of us. My mother waits until he goes for a short walk outside on the driveway and she brings the fire up and lets the flames burn good to clean out the chimmney. We act as conspiritors now in coping with my Dad. "You go upstairs and get his evening cocktail together (a watered down sherry) and I'll talk to him downstairs." We hide his jugs of cheap California sherry under the reading table's skirt by my Mom's bed. This is how we get through the day.

We are going to try Xanax if his doctor agrees that he should try it and see if it works better than his current med, a more common anti-anxiety drug.

My sister says her daughter's boyfriend might be able to help us. We can pay him under the table to help with some projects that need to get done this summer. Still need a guy to do chainsaw work. I have to learn how to use the tractor. My Dad's status is defined by his tractor and other male toys and he won't allow me on them. I'll have to tackle this in a few months.