Walking Dad Home. My journey from child to caregiver.

Today is the day we go meet Dad’s new doctor. It’s been over a year since he’s had a check-up. His old doctor has retired and her office told me about a new clinic that’s opened up in town. There are two practitioners in the new office that are currently accepting patients.   Dad and I drove over there last week and picked up the forms he needed to complete in preparation for his visit. I filled them out as best I could, but there was a lot of information I didn’t have. Much of the paperwork was left blank because he couldn’t recall most of the information they requested.   I’ve never understood why these forms continually need to be filled out over the course of a lifetime. It seems to me that in terms of medical and family history, filling them out once should suffice.  It’s not like the family history will ever change. It’s annoying having to answer these questions over and over. These types of inefficiencies in the human experience drive me crazy. But, I digress....

  July 28th, 2024 We arrive at night. It’s about 10PM. We’ve been driving all day and have just pulled into Dad’s driveway. The exterior lights are on, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I know he’s in bed. He told me he would be by the time we arrived. I wonder if he even remembers I am coming.   I start to unload the back of the truck. My brother in law has been driving all day, and he’s exhausted. He leans against the truck, smoking a cigarette, surveying my progress. I start to hoist the collection of boxes and suitcases out onto the sidewalk. It’s dark, but I can see the overgrown yard. The light above the back porch burns through the darkness, illuminating the tall, dry grass. It’s almost 3 feet tall in most places. Dad has always preferred the natural approach to lawn maintenance, but this looks unkempt. Random tufts of weeds have erupted from the seams in the concrete path. They flutter in the hot breeze. I don’t remember Wyoming being this hot at night, even at the peak of ...