Dinner and Dignity for Dad

My father was stubborn. He lived in the same house in suburban Detroit for nearly 40 years. My brother and I tried to convince him to move into a senior citizen apartment or closer to either one of us and relocate to California or Georgia. I pitched him numerous times on one of those planned communities in Florida, citing his love of golf and the fact that all of us would most certainly visit him more often if he didn't live in Detroit. He wouldn't have it. Every time we visited and had the conversation he would end up yelling. One time he locked my brother out of the house for suggesting a site visit to a local senior center. Heck he wouldn't even go for one of the "I've fallen and I can't get up!" monitors or a cell phone he could wear on his belt in case he couldn't get to the phone.

He wanted to live in his own house until it was time for, as he used to say, "take a dirt nap." I guess I couldn't blame him. Plus, as an adult child there's not much you can do to make your elderly parents do something like move unless you have power of attorney and can prove that they are a threat to themselves or others or are incapable of make their own decisions. That meant we didn't get a vote. The best thing we could do was to offer creative solutions one of those remote controlled chairs that raises launches you out.

I worried that he couldn't get to the grocery or stand long enough to prepare a meal. The fact that he was living on cold cereal and Manhattans wasn't helping his health so I did what any concerned long distance daughter would have done: I made a quick call to Meals on Wheels.

By signing up for that service I was guaranteed that my dad would get a couple of fresh meals delivered to his home by a volunteer every day (special dietary needs can be accommodated) for a nominal fee. The most important part of the service however was that he would no longer be alone in the house for days on end. In fact, it was a Meals on Wheels volunteer who saved him from dying in his launcher chair.

One day when the driver made his daily delivery he noticed that the meals from the day before were still inside the front door untouched. He ventured into the house and found my dad disoriented and ill and promptly called 911.

The ending to the story is both happy and sad. My dad was taken to the hospital and died a few days later. (that of course is the sad part) The good news was that because of that Meals on Wheels volunteer my dad received medical care, my brother and I were notified and were able to be at his bedside and most important, he was able to live in his own house until the end. We should all be that lucky.

This is an original 50Something Moms post. Lollie also posts on Philly Moms.