Have you had to coax a reluctant child into bathing regularly? I know from personal experience with Allison's ADHD, bathing is a constant concern. It is not that she doesn't like to bath or be clean, she simply doesn't think about it unless we tell her. As she has gotten older she is getting more and more used to the bathing ritual and less resistant to suggestions about bathing and grooming. She gets better and better as the years go by and now as she is about to enter junior high I believe all of the reminders and training are starting to pay off. Alzheimer's patients are exactly the opposite situation. It begins with noticeable self neglect and escalates into a constant battle.
As I have mentioned previously, Hillary battled with Dad for two days trying to get him to shower after weeks of avoidance. I don't know what the difference was between her battle and mine but I suspect that he had a deep emotional reaction to his first fight with her that the second caused him to give in faster, not wanting to alienate someone who obviously loves him so much, so unconditionally.
So far I have been successful getting him to shower twice over two weeks. Each one took approximately a half hour to get him to get from recliner to shower but the second was considerably harder as he fought me the whole way. Dad has used his height and intimidating manner his whole life and, up until now, it has worked like a charm. As before I used a bribe, cherry pie in the oven; a threat, no shower, no pie; a potential embarrassment, medical appointment (that did not exist); and a potential broken promise, "You told Hillary you would shower tonight" (also a white lie). I cheered him on the whole way and jokingly poked fun at him hauling his not existent butt out of his chair. This time he did a lot more bitching, loudly ordering me out while he was "getting ready" but I knew he was trying to fake me out and I told him so.
"If I leave the room and you are wearing anything more than briefs I know you won't shower 'cause you faked Hillary out the same way! All you did was wet your hair." I said, calling his bluff.
He got five inches from my face and tried to stammer out "Do you know how much....how much...how...", unable to complete the sentence.
"Yeah, you're over a foot taller then me...and I'm a lot faster!" I stood my ground.
"When did you get to be such a BRAT??" he demanded as I started removing his outer shirt.
"I was taught by the best! I'm not leaving. All of the crud you're wearing is going in the washer while you shower."
"OUT!!!" he demanded.
"Just give me your stuff, I'll leave you your dignity."
He finally plunked down on the bed and started removing his jeans. I got down and started taking off his shoes and socks...not an easy task with his swollen ankles. He protested the entire time, but I am not sure how he got those socks on or how he could have removed them without assistance. Poor Dad could really use a toenail trim but that would have to be another time. More griping and complaining but eventually I got everything but his briefs. Again I showed him the shower set up to make sure he knew he could safely take his shower and warmed up the water for him. I promised not to peek but told him I would be back for his briefs when I was sure he was in the shower.
Deep down I really thought he might try to fake me out but when I took a quick glance in and saw him sitting in his shower chair scrubbing his hair. Second success! I announced I wasn't going to peek and ran in and grabbed his briefs. All clothing safely in the washer and set to power wash as soon as he finished.
When I had changed his bed the week before I found Dad had developed a hazardous toothpick habit. At least 15 toothpicks littered his sheets and blankets and several more came out in the washer causing me to have to pick them out of the drain holes. This worried me that he might roll over on one in the middle of the night or might jab himself with one if he sat down too hard. Not only would that hurt like hell but the toothpick could splinter into his bloodstream. I felt from now on I should do a quick scan of the bed and fold any laundry in the dryer each visit to insure no toothpick hazards got away from me.
It took him a while to come out but the shower was well worth it to him. We watched Jurassic Park and ate fresh out of the oven cherry pie together.
He was so sweet to me, more so then usual, as I left, hugging me multiple times. As usual I promised to try to be good as long as he promised no wild parties. Of course, the final promise of "one ringy dingy" to make sure I made it home safely, then I triple honked as I drove away watching as he waved with both arms.
Funny, the "one ringy dingy" joke seems to have caught on. I was talking to Hillary about it a couple of weeks ago, about how important a pattern of "goodbye" can be to an Alzheimer's patient and the step by step goodbye I always follow with Dad. Apparently, Dad has started to say "one ringy dingy" to her as well. She had no idea where that came from until I reminded her of Lily Tomlin's operator and how I had started saying that to Dad several months back.
This week I had a medical procedure and Mike stepped in and took my visit for me. He also reported back a farewell of "one ringy dingy". I love that Dad likes that goodbye. Feels like he remembers me even if I'm just the "little kid" or the "wiseass" and not Erin anymore. I guess that kind of makes me "one ringy dingy". That makes me happy...very happy.
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