Operation: Helping Dad

Helping Dad these past few months has become a covert operation that calls for concise, strategic military-like planning...and some conniving. His feelings are easily stepped upon so we tip toe around caring, trying not to offend, when our intent is only to help. We've taken to hiding behind doors with mop and broom waiting for him to fall asleep so we can move in like stealth fighters into the kitchen to wash dishes and mop floors before he awakens. As he pulls out of the driveway for a doctor's appointment in a car he really should no longer be driving, we rush from behind the bushes where we've been hiding with our buckets, mops and brooms so we can gain access to the house with keys we're not suppose to have (says Dad), to mop floors, vacuum a rug, to tidy up his bedroom, pick up in the family room, do laundry, arrange his medications in a handy organizer Jean bought for him after he'd told her not to, or to put a low-sodium, diabetic safe casserole in the oven. Operative DBA, drops from the sky in chef hat and apron like a ninja warrior. Her assignment: replace his cookies and Twinkies with fruit and nuts, carrot sticks and raw broccoli, and to grill up a month worth of delicious low-sodium meats and veggies and stock dad's freezer, "Just so you have them handy Pops."

Double Agent JBH will coincidentally show up at an ungodly hour of the morning the same day he has a chemo appointment and say, "Well Dad, since I'm here can I drive you to your appointment?" Operatives Tamara and Desi nonchalantly pay an innocent visit to chat and accidentally stay overnight in an attempt to keep promises to doctors that he will not be left alone. Agent Tony's assignment (a.k.a. grandson), is to "drop by" because he's "in the neighborhood" to tidy up the yard, fix a broken door, feed the dog and get so busy with handyman duties he forgets to leave so will have to stay over -- not to watch over Dad of course, but because the experts say it's too dangerous hitting the road after too much yard work.

We are accused of being busy bodies and budinkys and making him feel like an invalid. But when we listened to him before surgery and gave him his home and his space, he accused us of not caring, never being around and he made us feel as if we'd failed him. We are stealth fighters with a mission to look after Dad, to care for him, to love him without encroaching on his privacy, his space, his world. We are honor bound by love and devotion to fulfill our mission at all cost.

And God help us that we can keep doing what we do, even when he tells us not to, that he doesn't want or need us around. 'Cause when I look in his eyes and see his fears, I know we're doing the right thing. I feel very strongly that we are.

Okay here's my disclaimer: This posting is a slight exaggeration, but sadly, not by much.