And now a little diddy from Daddy....

I'm not sure what's come over my father over the last year or so. He's become increasingly creative--composing songs, dancing randomly in the kitchen, singing arias in the shower. And now he has apparently taken to poetry.

Let me say first that I don't mean to beat the Depends/diaper/urination issue into the ground. On the other hand, it IS, afterall what's currently going on here (at least with my dad). And since that IS, afterall, the purpose of this blog, I would be unfaithful to my original goal (which is to document my daily life with my parents). For the record, I never know what I'm going to blog about. I go through the day and wait until something just sort of speaks to me. I always know when it happens. It's helped my attitude about living here. I'm more of an observer, which helps me from feeling like I'm 93.

This begins with last night, after Dad and Mom had retired for the night (and after I had to demonstrate to Dad how to put on the Maximum Protection Depends--see yesterday's blog). I was in the east end of the house. Mom and Dad were in the north end. It was about a half hour after they had gone to bed when I heard Dad hollering for me, "Denise!"

Obediently I got out of bed to go see what was the matter (assuming something was the matter since it's unusual for Dad to call me post-"going to bed."

We met in the living room. Oh did we meet. There was my father, standing nearly naked in the middle of the room. He had two Depends on--his Maximum Protection Depends and his regular Depends. That's right, two, count 'em, two Depends. He was afraid of leakage so he put on both Depends, one on top of the other, to be sure.

So there he was, standing there in front of me, in all his glory, and he says to me, "Take a picture of me and send it to your two brothers." And then he strikes a pose. And not just any old pose. It was like one of those Betty Grable poses from back in the forties, you know with one hand behind the head, one knee bent just so, the hips turned just so? And I'm an obedient daughter so, yes, I pulled out my cell phone and took his photo. But........I did not send it to my brothers. I just couldn't. It seemed...........I dunno.........undignified, disrespectful. Don't get me wrong, the photo is hysterical. But I just felt funny sending a photo of my 93 year old father, naked except for a double layer of Depends, to my two brothers, or to anybody else in the family for that matter. I still have the photo. You'll notice I haven't posted it here either. It just doesn't seem right. Having said that, I'd love to post the photo because it's so classically DAD. Priceless. Spontaneously priceless.

So anyway.........you have all the background. Now cut to this afternoon, about two hours ago. I walk into the living room where Dad is busy absorbing today's newspaper. He stops me and says, "I made it through the night without wetting the bed!" Big smile on his face, totally pleased with himself.

"That's great!" I say.

Then he stops me again. And the following poem is what he proceeded to share with me: (Because clearly Dad has been preoccupied with thoughts of Depends, and his bladder problems, and this new episode in his elderly life, and he was apparently inspired by it all.)

On my father's behalf, I've entitled this Deep Into My Diaper

I'm deep into my diaper

Cuz I can't hold my pee.

But this is what happens

When you're ninety-three.

My life's been a blast

With my finger up my ass.

But now I'm deep into my diaper

Unfortunately.

by Stanley Fleener 14January2010