Jail Bird

My father's caretaker is in jail. He got caught driving with a suspended license. Now, I'm back to square one in managing my father's care. It's annoying, but at the same time it is a relief. The caretaker was a fool.

When my mother kept calling and complaining about him, some of her concerns were legitimate. He would leave the house for several hours everyday. A couple of hours would have been fine, but to disappear for most of the day meant that my mother would have to change diapers. Some days, he would sleep until noon. This meant more diapers for mom.

The caretaker once showed up several hours late to take my father to a doctor's appointment. His excuse about slow freeway traffic didn't hold water. He either forgot, couldn't tell time or just blew it off.

Another time, my father had a doctor's appointment, so I came as "back up" in case he forgot again. I started getting my father dressed, but he told me that he would do it. I left the room and came back when it was time to leave. My father wasn't dressed yet. I got him dressed, but by this time we were running late. The caretaker came in and said in a whiny voice that he was going to do it. I mentioned the time and then he realized his mistake. He thought it was an hour earlier than it was. This confirms my theory that he can't tell time.

During the brief time the caretaker worked for my parents, my father became deathly ill twice. The first time, I found my father barely responsive. My mother had called and said that my father's diaper was filled with bright red blood. The caretaker had insisted that it wasn't blood, my father was fine and left the house as usual. He also borrowed my mother's car. Of course, I called in sick and came right away.

I figured that my father either had a urinary tract infection or was bleeding internally from too much coumadin, a high-risk blood thinner. Either way, he needed to go to the hospital, but I couldn't take him because my father's wheelchair was in my mother's car. I'm strong, but not strong enough to carry my father through the house and out to a car. I had to call 911.

The hospital determined that my father had a urinary tract infection and was severely dehydrated. The dehydrated part annoyed me. I had told the caretaker how much water to give my father a day and he hadn't followed my instructions. He had only been giving my father about a cup of water a day. What kind of fool would think that was enough?

My father was treated and released after a few days. This time, I removed my father's catheter, to avoid future infections. He didn't need it to void, it just made caring for him easier. The caretaker called and chastised me for removing the catheter. I'm still angry about that. He didn't care about my father's health. It only mattered what was easier for him.

My father later got dehydrated again on the caretaker's watch. I thought that he had learned his lesson the first time. He had increased the fluid intake, but when my father developed watery diarrhea, he didn't give him extra fluid to compensate. The diarrhea was the result of the caretaker deciding to give my father Milk of Magnesia. He made an honest mistake with the Milk of Magnesia, but to me, it is just common sense that if a person loses excess fluid, it needs to be replaced. I wanted to fire the caretaker, but my mother wouldn't let me, because although she also was unhappy with him, she felt sorry for him.

I have a long list of stupid things he did, but I think you get the idea. I'm glad he's gone. He's nothing more than a great big screw-up. And now, I'm back to going to my parent's house every day to provide care.