Single Mom

My dad and I have been at camp for almost 2 weeks now and he's getting stronger every day. He still sleeps a lot and is limited in the things he can do, but we can both see the improvement, so that's the most important thing.

I'm happy to be here for my dad and I'm thankful for the ability to be here. He needs someone to be with him, and I think recovering in his own home is good for him, so my being here is necessary. And I will be here as long as he needs me (and probably longer than that since camp is right around the corner and I would be here for that regardless of his health).

As I said, I'm happy to be here for him. But I feel like I'm a single mom. Actually, I feel like a single mom from the 50s, or a single mom on the prairie or a poor single mom. Let me explain.

For the first week or so, my dad could do very little. I helped him put on his socks, told him when to nap, when to wake up, hooked up his portable oxygen tank and helped him walk to the mailbox and back. I pretty much never let him out of my sight, except to sleep, but I found that I slept much lighter than usual, waking up to every little sound in the house. He seemed so fragile and I was worried all the time. Our bedrooms share a wall, so I heard every time he tossed and turned.

The first week home was a sleep deprived blur of laundry, cooking, cleaning, and trying to keep him on a schedule. Wake up, get him dressed, make him breakfast, clean up breakfast, convince him to take a short walk, he naps while I cook or clean or do some work, wake him up from nap, feed him lunch, clean up lunch, another walk, make dinner, clean up dinner, he goes to bed and I crash onto the couch wondering where the day went as I had little to really show for it.

In the hospital, he gained about 45 pounds of excess fluid on his legs and abdomen (his liver wasn't able to keep up with filtering it out) and so he needs to be on a low sodium diet to prevent any more fluid retention. Low sodium- no big deal- I'm a healthy cook... um, wrong. I had NO idea how much salt is in EVERYTHING. Canned peas, spaghetti sauce, chicken broth, tortillas... The first trip to the grocery store took twice as long as usual because everything I picked up was too salty.

So now I cook pretty much everything from scratch because it's much easier to cut the salt out, however, I literally cook all day every day. One of the first days home, my dad walked into the kitchen and asked, "what are you making?" because there was a pot on the stove (chicken stock), a pan on the stove (cream of mushroom soup), a loaf of bread drying on the counter (stuffing and also bread crumbs) and none of it was actual dinner, just things I would usually buy at the store to use in meals I cook. I feel like I'm an apron away from being in 1950 or little house on the prairie. If feel like pretty soon I'm going to start mending socks and washing clothes in the lake.

Since the first week, my dad has been steadily improving and is getting much stronger. He's now dressing himself and keeping himself busy between naps. I'm getting more and more creative in the kitchen, running every day, playing with the puppies, getting tons of work done- all while balancing 3 or 4 pots and pans on the stove at once.

But then the day ends and I live in the woods. With no tv. And not much to do. So in addition to being a single mom, I'm apparently a poor single mom. It turns out living at camp is only really fun when you're getting ready for summer and lead staff are here and it's warm outside and every day is a sprint to get everything done in time for the adventure that awaits. But with a month of single motherhood ahead and snow in the forecast for tomorrow (despite it being April 19!), I'm feeling crabby.

Okay, okay, I'm having a little pity party for myself because I miss having a boyfriend, going out for sushi, drinking wine and devoting all of my free time to myself. I'm not actually a single mom. And with the amount of online shopping I do, it's probably sort of offensive to actual poor single moms to compare my bummer week with their actual lives.

Being able to help my dad during this time is a privilege. I know he will not be here forever and I will look back on this time and be very thankful for having spent it with him. And I'm getting really good at cooking. And my dogs are happy play freely in the woods all day. So I should probably stop whining and be thankful for the good things in life.