The New Routine

Old habits die hard. All week, as I've watched shows I'd normally watch with my father, I've had to restrain myself from shouting, “IT'S BACK ONNN!!!” after each commercial break, as though he were still just down the hall or in the kitchen. Once, in an exhausted state, I actually got out the first few syllables, eliciting a confused inquiry from my mom in the next room.

I also miss explaining plot points to him on commercial breaks. Sometimes he'd ask questions during a show which could be grating, but for the most part he'd wait for an intermission. I told him on Wednesday to feel free to call during the premiere of Lost, but he insisted he wouldn't watch it because his roommate at the nursing home would be trying to sleep. I pointed out that the little speakers next to his bed wasn't as audible on the other side of the room, especially with the curtain partly drawn, but he was also worried that the light from the television would keep the other guy up. Mind you, the other guy was still watching his television and we couldn't even hear it, but that's my dad, always thinking about the other guy. We could all learn a lot from him.

We're slowly settling into a new routine, adjusting to the change in our lives. The visiting hours are different at the home and, unlike the hospital, my mom can't spend every free second of the day there. I can't get in to see him before work anymore, which only leaves a three hour window after work. My mom's starting to get back into her morning routine, running errands and taking care of things around the house while my dad has his therapy sessions. On Thursday, they apparently had him pulling small objects out of clay which irritated him since he has no feeling in his fingers, but I could clearly see how that was the point, to work on getting some of his dexterity back. Therapy doesn't work right away, but I am encouraged by the direction they're going in.

I finally went back to the gym on Thursday night. I left work right around 5, only did 15 minutes on one cardio machine, and strength trained on only three machines in the circuit. I think it may have been my first trip there this year, and hopefully a little exercise is better than none at all. I still had time to see my dad, and when my boisterous godfather dropped by, he pushed the limits of visiting hour by a good 45 minutes. He also hit on one of the nurses, telling her he thought she had 3 kids instead of 2 because he “counted [her] stretch marks”. I hope the staff has a sense of humor and doesn't blame my dad for his friend.

I'm starting to adjust and learn that it is possible to deal with this situation and lead some small aspect of my normal life with minimum guilt. I have an opportunity to see Metallica next week thanks to some friends with an extra ticket, and I'm still wrestling with it. On the one hand, I've never seen them live, and I haven't been to a concert since I saw Pearl Jam back in 1996. On the other, the concert is right after work so I wouldn't get to visit my dad that day. He keeps telling me to live my life and go, and I keep trying to figure out if that's sincerity or sarcasm. I think it's the former since my dad isn't remotely the sarcastic type. I am taking off work the day after the concert, so I could make it up to him by spending more time with him then.

A new routine is slowly forming. I'm back to going directly to work, pretty much on time. On a day when I can leave on time, which is the majority of them, I can fit in a short workout and still see my dad. Visiting hours end at 8, so I still get home in time for most of my shows. And while I wasn't able to discuss 24 or Lost with my father while they were airing, I was able to provide recaps for him the next day. Lost was especially complicated with the added element of nonlinear time travel akin to a record needle skipping. To my surprise, my dad seemed to follow everything I told him. Maybe I made sense of everything by putting the disparate elements into a more linear order. Maybe he was just nodding, not really listening as he was enjoying the background noise that helped him pass the time until his latest dose of antibiotic drip was complete.

The picture forming with Lost's overall plot right now seems to be about course correction, about things that are not the way they should be, the consequences of that situation, and the slow journey to set things right. Life is like that right now. My dad shouldn't be sitting in some strange room with strange people hooked up to strange beeping machines. My mom shouldn't be sleeping in a chair next to his bed, and I shouldn't have anywhere to go after work other than the gym, my house, or some social event like a concert or a happy hour. That's the way life should be. We're working around this new routine though, and eventually everything will be as it should once more.