One Month Ago

One month ago today,

My father’s second wife passed on. She was 101 years and eight months old. They were married for fourteen years. He will be 89 the first week of February.

My father is living here now with his two fourteen-year-old dogs. They are good Chihuahuas. I had to take his driving privileges away—he is happy about that. He has neuropathy in his feet and cannot feel them. It is like a foreign country here to him. He also has a pig valve; they say it is good for ten years. It has been about eleven.

I drive him in the car my brother bought for the home. Dad has his car sitting in the driveway, which is fine and dandy with me.

I have a monster 2000 F-150. I took him to the storage in it, and he said I am a good driver. Likewise, I have a steel footstool—he stands up on that, and he grabs the bar, and I stand there in case he gets dizzy. Oh me, oh my.

I have not lived with my dad since I was 21—I am going on 62. I have not watched television in a month. So funny.

I watch CSI on Pluto on my phone and computer occasionally. I am not interested anymore. Likewise, I cut news out last year. I do read my news feeds—some of them.

This is not half of it. Richard fell down on December 9, 2020, and has not walked since. He could stand and hold onto his walker. Since November 5, 2021, he has been bedbound.

My sister and I tag team. I do the transferring to and from the port. His body is atrophied, and stiff—three fingers work on his left hand. I use a gait belt with my left hand and hold the three fingers that work, and pull him up and over. Then when I bring him back, his legs are straight—they do not bend—halfway off the bed. Do the cleanup, then I get the gait belt, and bring his legs around on the bed. Then he pulls with his left arm and hand to the top of his bed. Then the diaper change. My sister does the prepping. It is sad, but he is strong-willed. He was not ready for hospice. I am not going to call on them. He is 79 with cerebral palsy.

They are sending a doctor over here to make a house call. It was supposed to happen last week. They canceled—I only found out because I called. I did not want an excuse. He has to wait until the 21st. They are going to give him a provider for some hours a week. My dad needs one as well. I believe it. 1/09/2022

1/11/2022—I think this is why I have decided to start publishing again. Without dates—they go back in time, in sentence form, even though I am indenting them all.

It has been my way since the beginning. I am the author of “In Presence of Spirit,” out of the blue sky. I love the writings, the prayers, and the communion with the Holy Spirit. Likewise, I still do not have that gut-wrenching pain, so I know God is still with me.

The F-150 was my son’s. He has had it here since April 1999. I had to do the paperwork for it because I needed to go get the rest of my father’s stuff at Arroyo City. So, I was pushed to do it. I had already driven a 20-foot U-Haul from Harlingen to the Arroyo, then back to McAllen—in twelve hours. Dad was behind me.

It has power. It is big. Likewise, it is my truck now. I want to go to the races by myself. I do not know anyone. Likewise, I will, one of these weekends.

Talk about isolation—twenty years here. My brother bought the house, and I do not have to worry about being booted out.

It is filled with three Greenwells and one Hagen, three small dogs, and two female albino cockatiels that cannot hatch an egg. My sister takes care of them. Now that my father is here, they do not scream. He said, “Cut it out,” and they chirp quietly—for a month. This is funny.

Oh, this one is good. Richard was talking to his brother in Virginia. I heard him say, “Richard, do you want to stay with Wendy or go to a nursing home?” He said, “I want to stay with Wendy.” You can only go into a nursing home if you have Medicaid. He is not eligible. That is what the nurses from hospice.

I panicked at the onset. My twin reminded me how she used to take care of her bedbound patients. So I am calm. He is not my patient—he is my friend. This is not a job. It is something I have to do because there is no one else to do it.

The outside help is finally going to come in and do something, because I cannot put him in the car anymore. My sister and I need a break. 398—not a day we missed. Wow!

What are my plans for the website? I am going to give it one more year because I already paid for the SSL—up to date on everything else. I am protected with security, even though I am all alone.

With no outside communication, no comments, no subscribers, no social media, no email address—no access for others to go on my site, and do what? It is almost antique writing. They still mean the same thing today as the days I was “in the presence of Spirit.”

I share them with you—anyone who needs a little or a lot of time “In Presence of Spirit.” Wendy

Wendy Yvette Greenwell