Dad’s been homeless for a couple of months. No, not like that. He’s been couch-surfing. It’s kind of a long story.
He had an apartment on the lower floor of my sister’s house, a nice little space with its own kitchen, full bathroom, living room, and a little covered patio where he could smoke. Yes, he’s a smoker. At the age of approximately late-80s (that’s a complicated story) I doubt he’d be able to stop smoking at this point.
But back in January, Portland got hit with a very bad ice storm. It shut down the city, and many homes lost power for days, including my sister’s house, which was rough on an old man. They stayed at my nephew and neice-in-law’s condo until power came back. Since my sister’s house is up in the hills, it was hard to get there and back again; dad couch surfed for a bit. And then it dragged out, because my sister’s house had a water pipe burst, and when the plumber came in, they found black mold, and asbestos in the walls. It turned into a big (necessary, of course, but still) project.
While my sister wrangled with the insurance and contractors, dad kept couch surfing with his grandson. That kept going, they wanted some privacy, so my sister asked if dad could stay with me.
Of course. Whatever it takes. I am happy to help!
Was nervous that having a roommate for the first time in years and years would expose all my weird habits and the odd gaps I imagine I must have in my lifestyle. I’ve been a solo bachelor for the huge portion of my adult life, after all. I have set ways of doing things. For some reason, as just one example, I don’t have many forks, compared to how many spoons and knives I have. I just live with it. If there’s someone else here eating food, they might notice and call out the dearth of forks. I can imagine it being A Thing.
Dad, though, has been a good roommate. If he gets up before me, he makes coffee. He’s got his own bathroom to use on the main floor and he keeps it clean. He tolerates going out on my uncovered patio to smoke. He’s help pay for groceries and put gas in my car. It’s been great.
But… he’s got a hearing problem. It’s been going on for months, since before Christmas, and no amount of nagging from me or my sister has gotten him to go to a doctor. So I’ve had to yell at him to get his attention, I’ve had to repeat myself a lot, and when he watches TV it’s very very loud. All of us have been worried it’s Something Serious, and finally my sister got an appointment at his primary care physician for this week.
All of this is set up for: his ears were just full of wax. It wasn’t Something Serious. He just needed to have them cleaned out. First thing he said when he got back from the doctor was, “What’s that roaring noise?”
Dad, that’s the heater. It’s sounded like that the whole time. You’ve just been deaf.
When he sat down in front of the TV and turned it on, he literally flinched at how loud it was.
It’s been comedy gold, frankly.
I love my dad. I’m glad he’s here.
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