And I thought male doctors would be more firm with dad. But dad talked his way out of his lifelong Warfarin prescription, supposed to prevent the occurrence of stroke. If I see that lady Cardiologist who convinced dad to take his first three dosages again, I am going to salute her.

When we went back to the eye clinic at long last, dad was so glad, his cheeks reflected sunlight. His next appointment is on the 20th August.

Why oh why, people like dad never understand how their actions involve others. Today, dad refused to take Warfarin for life. This means a stroke attack is just around the bend. If lucky, it would kill him instantly with little fuss. If not, he would be suspended between life and death, dependent on a respirator, catheters, feeding tubes, more medications, and his family suffers.

But dad could only stare when you reason with him, as though unable to distinguish between the self and other, between today and tomorrow, or comprehend personal agency. Like he’s not responsible for whatever happens. Come what may.

For this reason, I’m not too excited about his cataracts surgery. His heart is enlarged and his heartbeat irregular, for goodness sake!

But the doctors opine that it’s okay. So it should be okay-lah.

I need to device a plan. Bringing dad to the hospital alone is driving me nuts. He got lost again, and this time, he went downstairs, to the eye clinic, despite telling him that we had to get his heart settled. Now I am down with fever.

Is there some kind of a device that helps me track dad’s whereabouts in the same building? No, a handphone is not useful.

Posted in Caring For Dad |