The community around my parents is starting to notice the change. My mom is even skinnier than she was at “frail,” and the visit to the local hospital set off a warning bell.
When I stop by to visit my parents today, I ask them if they would consider interviewing an “aide.” In the military, an “aide” was something you earned when you achieved a specific position. I hoped that would help make it more attractive.
My dad immediately says, “No, I don’t want any strangers in my life. We are doing fine, so why would we need any help?”
I tell him that the hospital they visited called me and my sister concerned for their safety. Do you remember what happened? He says, “Yes.” I don’t push him to tell me.
I have asked this question several times: “When is it time to consider help?” He says, “We don’t need to do anything until something happens.” I let it go this time. They are unable to really define “something”.
When I see my parents later, my mom starts talking about when they will change and now it’s when one of them dies. The fact that they can’t pay their bills, get lost frequently while driving or have had several doctor’s express concerns over their ability to navigate daily life don’t count. Irked.