As the normal day turns, getting up to wet beds and a wet Lewy is now an everyday event. Until recently, this was no so bad. All it meant was undressing Lewy, dressing Lewy, and doing the associated laundry. Lewy could manage to get in the shower, take a mostly adequate bath and get out.
Some months ago, I got “over” touching fresh pee. In the beginning, I wore latex gloves and held any soiled clothes out at arms length to be sure I did not become contaiminated by the toxic waste. Now, I stick my hands in there, get my job done, and then run for the sink to clean up.
Lewy unfortunately has become much less mobile resulting in his inability to get into the shower. Of course, there is the first time that this happens you are not prepared for the immediate ramifications of this new downturn.
And so it was, I sent Lewy to shower. He tried his best to get in but could not. He exhausted himself trying to lift his leg over the side, and his rational mind is impaired to the point that the concept of knowing where to sit, is rarely grasped.
Realizing that Lewy was in trouble, Hubbie and I went in to help him. Our Idea was to lift him onto the shower seat, but Lewy decided against it. Unfortunately this decision came in mid lift. Our only way to bail out was to push Lewy’s 200 pound body onto the toilet to prevent him from landing on the floor.
“AAAHHHH!!!!”
My heart is pounding, I’m breathing like I had run a quarter mile….What Daddy? What’s wrong?
“AAAUUGHH!!!! AAAAUUUGHHH!!!!!! MY NUTTS!!! MY NUTTS!!!!”
Normally I try to avoid looking at my Dad’s private parts. It’s just too creepy. But you can’t not look when he’s screaming about his testicles. I bent over and for the first time in my life, I realized that there was truly a good reason to be grateful to be female.
The way we pushed him back wards onto the toilet seat had raked his testicles up and over the seat. They were being squeezed so tight my mind flashed to a mammogram with my boob stuck in a vise.
We grabbed him under his armpits (not recommended) and lifted him thinking that the boys would drop down into the tank. The boys disagreed. All we managed to do was squeeze them a bit tighter.
Lewy is turning three shades of red. “AAAAAWWWWWWW!!!!”
We tried to get him standing, but leaning forward put more pressure where it was least desired.
“AAWWWOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Hubbie and looked at each other After 31 years of marriage, you really don’t have to say anything to communicate. The boys had to be pushed back into the toilet and it was my job.
Now how do you touch your Dad’s business? Couldn’t it just be another pee filled diaper? Do I put on gloves? “AAAWAWOOO!” Oh Jeez….normally I’m a “decider”; - not this time…What to do? How to do it? I looked at Hubbie for guidance and got the “this one’s all yours” look.
Then a stroke of genius! “Hubbie, come lift” I grabbed Daddy’s other arm. “Daddy, when we lift, you push the boys back into the toilet.”
Success!
Whew! That was close.
Now I get to think about what’s coming. Oh my.
Pauline