One of my dad's friends from Chicago called the other day to find out how Mom was doing. Apparently he wasn't getting much information out of his conversations with my dad. Dad's friend is 92 years old, still drives (so did Dad until he moved out here) and lives at home with his wife and his wife's caregiver. (His wife has a form of dementia as well). We speak about my mom, he fills me in about how he and his wife are doing, (He is still working out three times a week at the Y. His wife just broke two vertebrae and is in a lot of pain) and a bit about a mutual friend who is currently in rehab after falling and breaking her arm. "I'm more worried about my dad," I tell Dad's friend. "He seems to be down in the dumps and suffering from inertia." "Your Dad ought to be thinking about his time when he studied that motivational guy (he's referring to my Dad's studies with motivational guru Dale Carnegie who espoused the power of positive thinking)."
I have left a message with Dad's doctor asking if perhaps an anti-depressant prescription might be the answer to his depression. The doctor leaves a message on my voice mail. "I talked to your dad and I just don't think he's ready for anything. He seems fine to me."
Well, Dad, better take out the old Dale Carnegie manual.