The Thoughts from Watching Over My Father as He Fell Asleep

Taking care of the elderly in one’s family, translated…

The cold front that came at the beginning of the year was something hard, I’d, sat quietly, watched my father, as he’d curled up underneath the covers, thinking about how tortured his body was by the illnesses; don’t’ know why, but I just, want to stay close by his side, watch him quietly, as he slept, warmly.

I’d left my home at the age of fifteen, rarely had any chances of living under the same roof as my father. Other than not having the time to spend together, my father’s habits are troubling for most; every time I’d gone home to visit, he was either in his darkened bedroom to sleep, or, he was, sitting by the racks outside the house, watched that small fire he’d started, to roast the yams. I knew he loved yams, so I’d, bought a huge bag for him, so he could roast them any time he wished. My mother always nagged on how he’d, burned the pots, that he had a different lifestyle, schedule, than her, and that he always, kept silent, but, as some words of cue came, he’d, gotten so angry, so worked up. I’d thought it was from his stubbornness, not knowing, that it was, a preliminary sign of dementia.

illustration from the papers online…

One day after the New Years when the cold fronts came, as my father got up, he’d, fallen outside, and, as we’d finally found him, it’s, way past the three hours of treatment priority phase. Although it was only a small embolism in his brain, it’d, taken that life of freedom away from him. Other than not having any strength on his left side, the fall had caused him to break his hip again, the orthopedic surgeon told us, that he can’t have surgery again. The anoxia he suffered caused his dementia to be clearer. For the months that followed, I’d gone with him to the neurologist, the cardiovascular department, the orthopedic department, as well as physical rehab, got him his CT scans, his cardiogram too, the X-rays on his bones, and, eaten the meals that my mother prepared for him. So, what I can do for my father is, when there’s nothing he can do anymore, he would be eating well, dressed warmly, and, putting that thick cover over his body to keep him warm. Before he had a stroke, all of his stubborn behaviors, I’d, attributed to his drinking, and now, it’d, dawned on me, that the primary cause was the deterioration of his mind! I’d thought that long-term care was only something mentioned on the news, but now, it’d become, closely linked, with me.

These past couple of months, I’d stopped all the games, the piano lessons, the art, the writing, the sewing, and exercises, those things I thought I must do regularly, and now, what’s most important for me, was staying right beside my own father. Every morning when he got up, take his blood pressure reading, gave him a glass of water with honey, make the soy milk, served it with cereal and multi-grain powder to him, and I’d fed him his breakfast, I’d, gone off to work. And, after work, I’d, squatted by his bed, and, held conversation with him based off of wherever his mind was going, sometimes, he was very articulate, at other times, he would mix and match the times and places; no matter what, I’d, maintained my patience, heard him tell of those age old memories of his, and, everything else that’s related to my life, doesn’t seem to matter, having my father in his eighties fall asleep soundly, that, was what’s most important to me.

That evening, as he’d fallen asleep soundly, I’d turned on the computer, played his favorite Taiwanese tunes, and, the weather reports said there would be another drop in the temperatures, my dear father, I hope, that you are dreaming something happy and sweet underneath your warm and comfortable covers.

And so, this, is a woman’s fulfilling her filial piety duties to her own father, because he’d become in need of her, and, despite how she’d left home at age fifteen, she’d still, adapted herself to living side-by-side with her own father again, because he needs her.