Today Dad was watching me order his groceries online. He’s slowly getting used to the computer, but the online groceries really had him mystified. “How are they going to fit them in the mailbox?” I nearly fell on the floor laughing at the idea of a delivery man trying to shove the groceries into Dad’s narrow slot of a mailbox. But Dad was seriously puzzled, so I tried to explain, “they’ll bring them upstairs, Dad.” He still seemed confused. Hopefully he’ll understand when they arrive tomorrow – once he tried to send the groceries away because he forgot they were coming and thought they weren’t his.
The other problem with Dad and deliveries is that the door buzzer has disappeared from his reality. It’s not just that he doesn’t remember how to use it – Brianna tried standing outside the front door with her cell phone and talking him through it, but it didn’t work, he just came downstairs to let her in anyway.
Going downstairs to let people in is problematic in several ways . Aside from the possibility of falling since his knees are bad and he can’t see, there’s also the problem of clothing – or lack of it. He’s firmly convinced that if old people’s chests get cold they die on the spot, so he always wears multiple layers of shirts and sweaters, and he hates having his head or feet cold, so he wears a hat, socks, and shoes, but he considers underwear and pants optional. It’s one thing in the house, but going down four flights of stairs he could run into neighbors. Marie/Obama says that the other day when she forgot her keys, he came and opened the front door for her nude from waist to ankles.
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