Every Day is a Challenge...with Daddy

Okay, so what I really mean, is that every day is a new one when it comes to dealing with Daddy! While I have to believe that his outbursts are not personal, they are none the less, wearing me out. Today was especially challenging. After moving him to a new wing of the VA Center over the weekend because his former roommate cursed any and everybody, now telling my dad to take a bath sets him off. This has happened twice this week and today was a corker.
The RN in charge of his wing called around 10:30 a.m. to tell me that he was packing his things again because it was bath day and it made him angry for someone to tell him to take a bath. When he got on the phone his response to me was "come get me" and when I responded that I couldn't at the moment he said that he would wait until I got off at noon; when that was not agreeable, he didn't want to talk with me any longer and said that he would leave anyway. After several conversations with those in the administration, I hauled it to the Center meeting the RN in the hall and moments later the social worker. Obviously the pain medication and Ativan had done nothing for his disposition! If God had intended to for me to have children, it would have been the normal way, not taking them to raise at 80!
At any rate, the social worker (Martha), RN (Liz), me and my dad went into an exam room that the door could be closed. Trying to be gracious, I went to sit on the rolling stool and it kept on rolling across the floor --- meanwhile, I found myself quickly hitting the floor and everything on the way down. That's one way to get his attention diverted, though very painful. Here it is four hours later and I can hardly move and now sport a huge bruise on my left thigh and everything else is rattled around.
My dad was angry that he was told to do anything, could not be convinced otherwise, proclaimed that he had no rights, etc. etc. I explained to him again that he could not return to "the house" and it was no longer home. Of course he proclaimed that no one cares and everyone is too busy and he is in the way. THAT MAKES ME VERY ANGRY!!!
I told him that I did not want to hear him say that ever again and that it was not true. Basically we put the ball in his court (thanks to the social worker) and asked him for a discharge plan. Martha explained that he would have to prove that he could cook, take care of himself, get himself to OKC for his medications (the VA provides those) and doctor appointments, etc. He didn't have much of an answer and told us just to put him wherever we wanted him.
We left the room with him making sure to kiss both Martha and Liz on the cheek. I was ready to swat him on the butt cheeks. This is my vent!
After going out to get us a sandwich, chips and drink his adrenaline had apparently worn off and he could hardly move --- and he didn't fall. (We had explained to him that he had earned the right to live there and be taken care of by the staff.) Unable to walk to his wing from the front of the building, the receptionist offered a wheelchair and I pushed him back for our "picnic lunch" and asked the nurse for pain medication. By the time I left, his phone was hooked up in the new room and he was outside smoking his pipe and talking with the two members of his "bath team" getting ready for his bath. He was happy again!
Now if I can just move the rest of the day and tomorrow.
Stay tuned.