Who really knows what time it is?

Part of my job as caregiver is to put out fires. By fires, I mean the little things an old guy just can’t manage to accomplish on his own. This morning, it was breakfast. Yesterday, it was all about time.

So an alarm clock is necessary because my Dad’s on lots of medications and doesn’t just hop up out of bed in time for events. So we’ve been on the search for the perfect alarm clock. As is typical, it’s more like a tale of Goldilocks. We have yet to find the Just Right.

So the first clock was a purple flower that Dad wore out. And also he couldn’t always count on the twelve being up. If he wasn’t careful it would read five o’clock instead of eleven. So I got him a digital. Joining the 21st century. That thing was going off at all hours of the day and night because my Dad and digital are two objects never in the same sentence. He hated that one too. Then came the tiny wonder. It was loud. He accidentally pulled one of the little dials off the back, the one to set the alarm time. Then came the dynamic duo. One is a wind up – more his century – while the other has a battery and a little light that illuminates the clock face at night.

The only issue with the dynamic duo was that the dials are all labeled in writing Dad can’t read. “And there’s too many! Who needs this many dials on the back of a clock? I don’t know what any of them do!” So I come out with my sharpie and label the clock dials. Works great on the white clock. Not so much on the black. My Dad is not into glitter pens yet so I had to come up with another solution to label the black clock.

Pink Nail Polish!

He seems satisfied despite his declaration of “that stinks!” But it’s the point. It’s not the huge issues of everyday life that caregivers must smooth over. It’s the little things. Like how to work a clock.

Ironically enough, Dad has kept every single clock.

So now he has five. Oddly enough, none of them have the same time.

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