父親の介護はつづている
幸い、日中の失禁はあの日だけでした。
夜間の方も、リハパンの工夫があるからか、ズボンには漏れていません。
事実だけを書くと、日中の失禁で母親の疲弊した態度が増し、ネットで使い捨てできる防水シートをポチって、日中はリビングの真ん中に寝込んでいる小さな布団の腰あたりに敷くようになりました。
介護ってあれこれ悩むのもストレスですが、金銭的な部分でもストレスになります。
今、食料品などが高騰していて、日常の買い物も安くはありません。
母親が父親のおやつなども買っているのですが、やはり家計簿をつける習慣がない母親には支出を把握することはできないでしょう。
父親に「これ買ったから食べな」と夕方に帰宅して母親が声掛けます。
こみちは家族のために夕飯を作っている目の前で。
実際、母親は「余裕」が欲しい人で、誰かに作ってもらうというベースに自分なりにアレンジを加えたい人です。
なので、こみちがしたことや、しようとしていることと同じことを同じタイミングでして来ます。
「じゃ、任せたい！」でもそうではありません。
誰かが絶対にするから、ちょっとしたいんです。
昨晩、キッチンの排水口のネットが新しいものに交換されていました。
でもこれからこみちたちの洗い物をするので、また汚れるんです。
「交換したい！」と自分なりに頑張る母親。
でもそれはあまり役立っていないですし、少し汚れたネットを洗って使うか新しいものにまた交換するか、そうなってしまうことがよくあります。
父親も意識がしっかりしていると、会話でもまともなことを言ったりします。
「分かっているんだ」と思うのですが、壁に掛かった曜日別の薬入れに全く違う曜日の袋を突っ込んだりしているのはやっぱりできません。
ポケットに袋がいくつも入るって変だと思わないのか、思っても立ち止まることができません。
それでいうと、母親も全く薬には関与しません。
朝夕の薬を小袋に入れても、それが何個なのか、朝と夕方でどちらが多いのかも気にしていないんです。
特定の曜日に袋がいくつ入っていても。
何年も前から、両親にこれだけは守ってと頼んで来たことも、その大半は守れていません。
１個守ってもらうために、他の10個をこちらで引き受けても、その１個を絶対に守れるとも言えないんです。
トイレの壁掛け時計が電池切れで止まっています。
気づいたのですが、こみちはわざとそのまま何もしていません。
数日間、誰も何もせず、最終的には誰がしたのか分かりませんが時計そのものが外されてしまいました。
母親は「よく電球や電池の交換は男性の仕事だ！」なんて言います。
でも料理を全くしなくなった母親に聞きもしませんが「女性の仕事って何？」と聞いてみたくもなります。
父親は家族のためになる家事はもう一切していません。
しているのはリビングと自室の窓やカーテンを閉めるくらい。
それだって母親にやらせたりします。
でも自分のためなら、毎晩、養命酒を飲めるんです。
それは欠かしません。
できないんじゃない。楽したいだけなんです。
そしてその楽のために、家族が何か強いられることには無頓着です。
リハパン代に加えて、失禁臭い消しになる洗剤、日中の使い捨て防水シート。
これらは父親が生きている限りずっと買い続けるものです。
老化現象を怒っているんじゃないんです。
ただ自分中心に、そして家族、いやこみちたちが見えないところで苦労していることがどういうことか自分の戒めに活かせないことが理解できないんです。
父親は時々、「俺なんて…」と呟きます。
それを聞くと「幸せそうだ」と思ってしまいます。
年金だけしかない高齢者世帯がどんな暮らしをしているか。
自分がどれだけ家族に支えられて、言えば家族の時間をもらって今があるのか、全く見ようとしません。
こみちが夕飯を作っている時、テレビを観ながら母親が「たまにはこんな料理も食べたいねぇ。お父さん」という声が聞こえて来ました。
もう「何言ってんだよ！」と怒る気もありません。
例えば頑張って作っても、母親は「美味しかった」とも「ありがとう」とも言わないでしょう。
「今日は暑いのにシチューなの？」
いつも仕方ないとか、我慢しているみたいな雰囲気を出してくるので、作るのもストレスです。
でも両親のためではなく、自分のためにも自炊しないとこの家はまわりません。
何かをして、それで家族が笑えたらいいんですが、どこにも響かずに過ぎてしまうことが悲しく思います。
Caregiving for my father continues.
Fortunately, that daytime incontinence episode was a one-time thing.
Nighttime has been okay too—perhaps thanks to some adjustments with his disposable pull-up pants, we’ve avoided any leaks onto his trousers.
To state the facts: seeing him soil himself during the day made my mother’s exhaustion even more visible. I hopped online and "clicked" to buy disposable waterproof sheets. Now, I lay them around the waist area of the small futon he keeps in the middle of the living room during the day.
The stress of caregiving isn't just about the constant worrying; it’s the financial strain too.
With the current hike in food prices, even everyday grocery shopping isn't cheap anymore.
My mother buys snacks for my father, but since she’s never had the habit of keeping a household ledger, she has no grasp of our actual spending.
"I bought this, so have some," she’ll say to him when she gets home in the evening.
She says this right in front of me while I’m busy cooking dinner for the family.
In reality, my mother is someone who craves "margin" in her life. She wants the foundation—like a meal—to be made by someone else, so she can add her own little "arrangements" on top.
As a result, she often ends up doing the exact same thing I’m doing, or about to do, at the exact same time.
It’s not a matter of me saying, "Fine, I’ll leave it to you then!"
She doesn't want the full responsibility. She just wants to do a little bit, because she knows someone else will inevitably do the heavy lifting.
Last night, I noticed the mesh net in the kitchen sink drain had been replaced with a new one.
But I was just about to do our dishes, which meant it was going to get dirty immediately.
My mother tries her best in her own way—"I want to change it!" she thinks.
But it’s rarely helpful. It often leads to a dilemma: do I wash and reuse the slightly soiled net, or waste another new one? This happens all the time.
When my father is lucid, he can hold a decent conversation.
"He understands," I think to myself. But then I see him stuffing medication bags into the wrong slots of the weekly wall organizer. He can't do it.
Doesn't he find it strange to have multiple bags in one pocket? Even if he does, he can't seem to stop himself.
On that note, my mother is completely hands-off with the medication.
Even when I portion out the morning and evening pills into small bags, she doesn't care how many there are or whether there are more in the morning than the evening.
She doesn't blink an eye, even if one specific day has a pile of bags in it.
For years, I’ve asked my parents to follow just a few basic rules. Most of them have been ignored.
Even if I take over ten other tasks just so they can focus on keeping one rule, there’s no guarantee they’ll keep that one, either.
The wall clock in the bathroom stopped because the battery died.
I noticed it, but I purposely left it alone.
For several days, no one did anything. Eventually—I don't know who did it—the clock itself was simply taken down.
My mother often says, "Replacing light bulbs and batteries is a man’s job!"
She doesn't cook anymore, and while I don't ask her, I find myself wanting to: "Then what is a woman’s job?"
My father no longer does any chores for the sake of the family.
The most he does is close the windows or curtains in the living room and his own room.
Sometimes he even makes my mother do that.
And yet, for his own sake, he manages to drink his medicinal Yomeishu every single night.
He never misses it.
It’s not that he can’t. He just wants to take the easy way out.
And he is completely indifferent to the fact that his "ease" forces a burden onto the rest of the family.
The cost of pull-up pants, the specialized detergent to get rid of the urine smell, the disposable waterproof sheets...
These are things we will have to keep buying for as long as he is alive.
I’m not angry at the phenomenon of aging itself.
I just can't understand why he remains so self-centered. I can't understand why he can't use the realization—that his family (or rather, we) are struggling behind the scenes—as a reminder to do better.
Sometimes my father mutters, "Someone like me..."
When I hear that, I can't help but think, "You look pretty happy to me."
Does he have any idea how elderly households living only on pensions actually survive?
He refuses to see how much he is supported by his family—how much of our time we give up just so he can be where he is now.
While I was making dinner, I heard my mother say to him as they watched TV: "It would be nice to eat something like that for a change, wouldn't it, Dad?"
I don't even have the energy to snap back with "What are you talking about?!" anymore.
Even if I put effort into cooking, she likely won't say "It was delicious" or "Thank you."
Instead, it’s: "Stew? On a hot day like today?"
She always gives off this vibe that she’s settling or putting up with things, which makes cooking so stressful.
But I have to keep cooking—not for my parents, but for myself. Otherwise, this house won't function.
It would be nice if doing something made the family smile, but it's sad to feel like everything I do just passes by without echoing anywhere.