Caregiving Unzipped: Mr. Poo-in-the-Pants

 

I Am Not an Angel

I get tired of acquaintances and family calling me that—an angel. Saying how great I am as a caregiver. Oh, it’s nice to hear, sure. But when that’s all they do? When they just say it and move on? It annoys me.

Them saying it is enough for them. For me? I’d like a little help. Maybe visit my dad sometimes. Maybe send me a box of frosted angel cookies. (Let’s go for accuracy here.) But such is life.

I am not an angel. I am not Florence Nightingale. I do what I can, as I can do it. It is not always smooth sailing. And even if it was, that would make me a sailor. And you know what kind of language sailors use.

I guess I am indeed a sailor.

Caregiving, but Make It Personal

When we care for a loved one—especially a parent—backstory bleeds into how we interact with them. That’s unavoidable.

How a man treats another man, how he treats a woman—it can be very different. My interactions with my father are wildly different than those I had with my mother. I say things to my dad that I would never, not ever, have said to my mom. That’s just the way it is.

I try to inject humor into our relationship as caregiver and caree. That said, if it’s funny to me, I don’t care too much if it’s funny to him. I’m too worn thin by the daily grind to vet my jokes before I make them.

Some of my jokes are at his expense. Some are at my own expense. Often, it’s both.

Case Study: Mr. Poo-in-the-Pants

"Dad," I say. "Time to get up. I need to change your underwear. They need it. I can smell it."

"What? I don’t need my underwear changed. They’re fine. Just let me sleep."

"No," I say. "I can smell it. You’ve got poo or wet poo in your underwear. A lot of it. If I can smell it from here? It’s serious."

"No, I don’t!" he grumbles.

"Yes, you do. So get up, Mr. Poo-in-the-Pants."

He gives me The Look—the universal signal of parental disapproval. Then:

"I’m fine."

"Up and at 'em, Mr. Poo-in-the-Pants! Be a man! Sit up!"

"I am a man," he says.

"Then act like it. Let’s go. Sit up, Mister!"

And—grudgingly—he does.

Oh, I know. Some people would never say such things to their father. But I am not you, and you are not me.

The Long Story Behind the Short Words

There are 16 years of caregiving backstory here. And I turned 62 as of June 1st as of this year. My dad and I have history.

The “like a man” bit? That’s a bleed-through from childhood, my teenage years, and younger adulthood. Dad always said that to me.

"Act like a man!"
"Take it like a man!"
"Men don’t cry! Are you a man or not?"

I can’t help myself sometimes. Not out of spite, not out of bitterness. But probably, in some way, it’s a payback.

It works, though. It gets him to grudgingly agree.

But Mr. Poo-in-the-Pants? That one’s for me.

Because some days, when he’s being especially obstinate?

I need the laugh.