Dad ate the Minwax

The two cans of furniture refinisher sat in the Home Depot bag next to me on the floor of the ER examination room while we waited for the results of a precautionary chest x-ray. An array of lights flashed Dad’s vital signs in neon colors. Dad was vital alright, he was doing pull-ups using the gurney rails and babbling happily to the doctor. Now and then Dad pointed out some medically interesting tidbit like his missing kneecap, his hearing aid and the corn on his little toe. He covered one eye at a time to demonstrate – unrequested – his ability to read the writing on both a child abuse prevention poster and the doctor’s name-tag. Each medical offering drew a smile and nod from the doctor towards Dad and his questioning look towards me. “Dementia”, I said. “Ah”, said the doctor. The triage nurse returned with the results of the call to Poison Control. The Minwax that Dad had scraped out of the can to eat with a spoon would not harm him after all. It would just induce a mild laxative effect. The dark walnut refinishing liquid was a little more toxic, however not much of that was missing from its can. The chest x-ray results came back negative except for a small “spot” in his lower lung lobe that could be unrelated early onset of pneumonia. The doctor wrote a prescription for ammoxicillian but suggested I fill it only if Dad developed a cough. I helped Dad back into his jacket, handed him his cane and thanked the staff. Dad waved happily to everyone as we shuffled our way out into the lobby and back to the car.

On the drive home I began questioning my actions. Should I have called the Poison Control number rather than rush Dad to the ER? Perhaps. Had I reacted like a mother with an injured two-year-old? Yes. But Dad ate Minwax for crying out loud! He drank furniture refinisher after prying off a childproof cap and forcing a tight red safety plug out of the can! The stuff had awful fumes that made me light headed but he drank it! I mentally retraced the event. The cans had been sitting on the kitchen island where I had dropped them while I answered a phone call. I didn’t notice the bag was missing. It wasn’t until I was taking Dad his tuna casserole that the Minwax fumes in his room sent me into a panic. He was putting the lid back on the can saying “I don’t think I can eat any more of that”. I searched frantically for the can of refinisher liquid and discovered it out on the back porch. I read the accidental ingestion warning on each can. “Call the doctor immediately” and Contact Poison Control at once”. Yikes! I knew what Dad’s doctor would say if I ever even got past the receptionist: “take him to the ER!” Calling the 800 number for Poison Control and being put on hold? No. Ok, so I wouldn’t have done anything differently. But next time (next time?) I’ll think it through and act with more forethought, rationally. I felt better. I relaxed, absolved.

Later, at home, I searched for the missing childproof cap and red safety plug. Gone. Maybe he swallowed them? Oh well, they’re probably not toxic and the laxative effect of the Minwax…well… he should pass them.

Home Office Chronicals 8

The Shaving Mug

Dad wanders into the kitchen as I pour coffee into my favorite mug. He holds out his mug so I naturally begin to pour when he shrieks and withdraws it. “Dat beem ney caffee!” he steps back aghast and stares down into his shaving mug. It's empty, I hadn’t gotten a drop into it. He sits down at the kitchen table and holds a hand to his chest shaking his head. I should have recognized his shaving mug, don’t know why I hadn’t, too early I guess. I stand at the kitchen island drinking coffee and leafing through last week’s newspaper. “Zop, I vant new zop, you go ven?” he holds up his mug twirling one finger into it to signify his shaving brush. Great, now I’ve got to try and find shaving soap again, a thing stores just don’t stock much anymore. Where did I get the last batch? I think it was the pharmacy where I pick up Dad’s meds. Wonder if they would sell it to me through the drive thru window? How long would it take me to explain what kind of soap to the young woman at the window? No, I’d have to go into the store and hunt it down. “Vat und you go now ven you go?” Dad asked. Funny, no matter how battered his speech becomes I always understand what he's saying the way young mothers always understand their two-year-olds. Dad’s dementia is just an inconvenience like running out of shaving soap. “I go valk da dogs, you get zop ok?” “Ok, Dad, later today”, I say. He picks up his mug and puts it down next to the coffeepot then thinks better of it and takes it with him. I watch him descend the porch steps and wander out to the south beyond the pine trees with the dogs tagging along. He picks up his five iron where he had left it and pulls bright yellow golf balls out of a pocket placing them in a row on the sand. Dad’s back swing is followed carefully by five sets of dog eyes. They each had experienced that back swing up close and personally. Crack, thunk! A ball hits the tool shed a hundred feet away. Crack! Another whistles through the pine trees and out of sight. I take my coffee back to my office and wonder if I’ll find the time to drive into town today.

Home Office Chronicals 7

 Be forewarned: This is a "Dog Story"

Two Green Grapes

Pogo, our big Dalmatian, has been walking around the front steps for some time now with 2 green grapes between his front teeth. He's holding them sticking out just as far as he can without dropping them for the sole purpose of tormenting Sugar, our Samoyed Husky. Pogo knows that green grapes stolen from the garden are Sugar’s favorite snack and Sugar, being the very intelligent animal that she is, knows that these two grapes in Pogo’s lips are the very best two green grapes from the entire garden and so there is just no reason to go get her own two green grapes --she must have those two green grapes. Pogo is making sure the two green grapes are always in Sugar’s sight. He stays right in front of her. She turns away; he circles in front of her. She lies down; he drops his head so she can still see the grapes without lifting hers. She wanders over to the pond to get a drink; he dips his head down next to her without getting his grapes wet. This goes on for some time until finally Pogo spots a cottontail, drops the now forgotten grapes and runs after it. Sugar saunters over and picks up the two green grapes but doesn’t eat them. She holds them between her front paws waiting for Pogo to return…

(...actually, grapes are very bad for dogs so we keep the dogs out of the fenced garden. Pogo managed to pick these through the fence. He doesn't like grapes but he knows Sugar does)