While holidaying at my Dad’s property last week, my afternoon nap was shattered by aggressive yelling coming from the backyard shed. “What are you doing?” my father roared repeatedly. I lay on my bed, feeling alarmed. Then he shouted “What’s for dinner?” and “coffee or tea?” Not living in the same state as he does, it was the first time of many that I would hear this afternoon routine during my week long stay. The boisterous nature of the exercise was disconcerting, but far more upsetting is the reality of why he now has to engage in daily vocal therapy. A three year sufferer of Parkinson’s Disease, my intelligent, articulate and dry humoured Dad is slowly losing the ability to talk properly.
At 33, I am at the confronting age where the realisation that our parents are no longer invincible starts to hit. Of course, for many people, this is an injustice they sadly may have to endure at a younger age. But for most of us, we grow up assuming that our treasured parents will surely be around to deliver a speech at our wedding, witness the birth of our own children and experience for themselves the joy of being grandparents for years to come. Yet as ensconced as I am in my own pain at watching my once robust Dad age exponentially before my eyes, I can appreciate that I am still one of the lucky ones. I have two close girlfriends who have already lost one of their parents to cancer, and another friend whose father has fallen victim to crippling dementia – so much so that he is forced to live in a nursing home and rarely recognises his wife or three children during their daily visits. There are currently almost 280,000 Australians living with dementia, and tragically, the number of people with the disease is set to increase by almost 50 per cent over the next 10 years. But whether it’s dementia, Parkinson’s disease or cancer, at the end of the day the disease is irrelevant.
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My father moved to a different state and last year we went through our longest period of not seeing each other - a whole year.
He came over to visit so I turned up on time to the airport to pick him up, however the flight had arrived early so a few people were already waiting for luggage while the rest were still coming through the gate.
I looked over to the luggage area and couldn't see Dad. I waited for 15 more minutes at the gate and still didn't see him; strange as my Dad always books an aisle seat.
I looked back to the luggage people and realised my Dad had been standing there all along, and I hadn't recognised him because my brain had gone 'that man is too old to be Dad'.
Time for me to stop being begrudged that he moved away and to appreciate the fact I have any time with him at all!
My father moved to a different state and last year we went through our longest period of not seeing each other - a whole year.
He came over to visit so I turned up on time to the airport to pick him up, however the flight had arrived early so a few people were already waiting for luggage while the rest were still coming through the gate.
I looked over to the luggage area and couldn't see Dad. I waited for 15 more minutes at the gate and still didn't see him; strange as my Dad always books an aisle seat.
I looked back to the luggage people and realised my Dad had been standing there all along, and I hadn't recognised him because my brain had gone 'that man is too old to be Dad'.
Time for me to stop being begrudged that he moved away and to appreciate the fact I have any time with him at all!