Adventures in Caregiving: The Toilet Paper Saga

At the end of January, I moved back to Ohio from New York City to help with caregiving for my aging father. My annoying father. My selfish father. My father who is dying from Congestive Heart Failure and Neuromyelitis Optica. Oh, and also my dad has been completely blind since I was born, so really caregiving for my father in one way or another has been the name of the game since day one.

My father is annoying in that way that lots of elderly people become annoying: they want things the way they want things and new ways of doing things are bad. My dad is a boomer so I guess shouldn’t be surprised by this behavior, but anyway changes are hard for him.

The way he deals with changes is to fuss and be dramatic. My sister’s response to his demands are to quietly comply. I, on the other hand, like to confront him about this. I push him to adapt. I also am a troll and cannot help but find his fussing and dramatics hilariously absurd.

Which is how we ended up with two separate orders of Charmin toilet paper.

My dad’s biggest complaint these days is his dealings with incontinence and I totally understand frustrations around this. Especially because I’m a woman and deal with random blood every month or so. Ruined clothes and embarrassment has been a staple of my life since age 13. Anyway, it’s just pee and I get it.

But my dad does not want to adjust to his incontinence and so every time he has to adjust, he rages out like the hulk at whatever non-incontinence related thing he can. This time it was about toilet paper.

He woke up Thursday morning, early because of his military days, and went to the bathroom to find that the toilet paper roll was empty. I have no idea what he did to deal with this in the moment, but later in the car ride to his covid test he began to yell at me and my sister for not refilling the toilet paper.

“But dad, the toilet paper is in your room where you always keep it”

“No it isn’t”

It was. He forgot.

“Well Dad, it’s either pee a lot or die from fluid overload due to your weak heart. You don’t drink water. Won’t drink water. So pee is what you have to deal with.”

You may think I’m being mean when I say this to him, but I said it calmly after he hulk raged about the toilet paper even though it was his fault the toilet paper roll wasn’t refilled when he needed it.

So I ordered more toilet paper and thanks to the magic of capitalism it was waiting for us at home after the test was completed. Fast forward a few hours after I have a. told him where the toilet paper is and b. put it right next to the toilet and in his room, and he’s pissed again.

“I need toilet paper for my nose. Tired of using paper towels.”

“I told you where the toilet paper is.”

“I didn’t know you bought more. I don’t be knowing what’s in here or not.”

I stare at the toilet paper rolls stacked on the ground in my dad’s room. I smile to myself and hand him a roll. Then I walk away and scream-laugh all the way back to my room in the basement.

And dear reader, you might think, the toilet paper saga has to be over now right? Wrong.

The next day I wake up to give my father his morning medication and he starts grumbling about toilet paper again.

“I’m ignoring that comment,” I say.

Later after grocery shopping (where I bought more toilet paper out of an abundance of annoyance) I sit down in his room and I tell him that this toilet paper saga has to end for the sanity of my sister (who has truly had enough) and because it’s stupid. It’s toilet paper.

“Yeah I know. I was just joking this morning.”

“Either way, just ask if you need something.”

“Okay. Can you slice me up some angel food cake?”

I roll my eyes and return with the slice of cake. And with that the toilet paper saga finally ends. Until the next time he is looking for it again I guess.