She found him in the pantry, fly unzipped, tilting over the recycle bin.“Oh Dad,” she said and led him to the bathroom. She hosed down the urine-soaked container, then returned to the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers. He sobbed into a terry towel. She rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades. Skinny like bird’s wings, she thought.
“For Cripe’s sake, I built this house,” he said. “You’d think I’d know where I put the goddamn can.”
She waited behind the closed door while he changed. He’d installed the second bathroom twelve years ago, during his one week of vacation. Lined up like ghosts on the front lawn, the second-hand porcelain fixtures had embarrassed her. Her father whistled the whole week, annoying Gershwin tunes between his teeth, happier than a hog in poop because he was banging away on a ‘project’. She could barely hem her surgical scrubs.
A string of obscenities punctuated the burbling water. She opened the door. The face cloth dripped in his shaking hand, spattering his tee shirt.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
“It’s the Parkinson’s,” she said. “The neurotransmitters aren’t quite connecting in your brain.”
“Harrumph.” He tilted his head at her, then shuffled down the hall. “My brain’s just fine.”
At dinner time, she found him in the basement. Back to the door, he didn’t notice her as he plowed through the toolbox.
“Loose screws, my ass,” he muttered. “Now where’s the goddamn philips?”
***
Inspired by this week's 52-250 Flash a Week Challenge theme: loose connections. Tough theme, at least for me. Of course I gravitated towards something health-related.
Posts
if only we could see ourselves the way others do. this is such a personal and moving slice of life Linda. Just touching.
ReplyDeleteQuite the touching tale...
ReplyDeleteThis was cuter than your usual work, Linda. Anything to do with senility is depressing to most people. I talk to my grandfather nightly to make sure he gets some familial contact, and he routinely forgets vital things. It's never like this, but if you experience it, you can appreciate that kind of humor.
ReplyDeleteThat's the hardest part - seeing someone so handy becoming totally dependent. Loved "skinny like bird's wings."
ReplyDeleteHow deftly you handled this piece, Linda. Very moving, with a light touch.
ReplyDeleteSad and touching, Linda.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done Linda. Sad, touching, and poignant - it takes real skill/talent to make this story work and it worked beautifully.
ReplyDeleteK
I love how the gentle humour of this piece - I agree with Kevin Michaels that it is so difficult to do with such a sensitive subject.
ReplyDeleteA sad story, more so for her, since she's aware and has to watch it slowly happen.
ReplyDeleteI love the touch of humor you give this sad piece. I have a family member with Parkinson's and another in the early stages of Alzheimer's. It's a tough road for both the ones diagnosed and the ones there to care for them.
ReplyDeleteThe pride and vulnerability in him is so well-drawn, and the helplessness of the watcher who knows there is nothing to be done except acting with as much compassion as one can.
ReplyDeleteAlways love how you capture the "real life" in your stories. This is morbidly humorous to me, that kind of smile that comes years after struggle.
ReplyDeleteYou alwys tell the truth in your work, Linda. And having some neuro issues myself, I can assure yuo that this is very much rael and life. And humour helps us dael with it. Love this, pretty lady. Now where the hell is my phillips? ;-)
ReplyDeleteI thought this was an excerpt from PURE - a Phoebe view. This read very quickly and without a hitch. Well done.
ReplyDeleteVivid writings. I love how Dad is feisty. "Loose screws, my ass."
Linda, these may be the most "real" characters I've read in some time - I love them, especiallly their ease with one another. This is both sad and uplifting at once.
ReplyDelete