Senile Penile Delinquent

Oy vey.

I did not tell him that he had a doctor's appointment until this morning, although it was listed on two wall calendars.  I knew that if he had more than one day there would be worries and upset.  So I told him this morning when he wandered out in his nightshirt to say good morning to me and the dogs.

After he got up the second time and got dressed (very nicely -- blue and green striped shirt under a pink sweater) he came and sat down next to me at the breakfast bar where I was writing checks for our estimated taxes.  This was odd and I was sure I knew what he was going to say and he said it.

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"I have an idea -- let's cancel the doctor's appointment.  I know why I bled.  It was because I masturbated too hard."

I calmly said, "No, I'm not going to do that.  I know you hate doctors.  I know that you feel afraid.  But Dr. Thakur wanted you to see a urologist and I want to follow her directions.  I care about you and love you."

Well, he wasn't happy, but we got out to the Summit Group Urology shortly after noon.  I remembered to bring my POA paperwork and I did my best to fill out all the medical history forms, what I could remember of them.

And, as I thought would happen, he was loud with everyone.  With the physician's assistant, at one point he told her he couldn't hear her and then when she spoke up he raised his voice and said back to her what she had said.  When Doctor Baker came in he managed to insult her by saying that doctors just wanted to perform procedures in order to make money.  I was mouthing "sorry, sorry" at her as he was talking.

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Sadly, I don't think she had a lot of experience with folks with dementia as she tried to use logic with him saying that because of his phimosis she couldn't see if he had a lesion that had produced the blood on the sheets (our purpose for being there).  She said that if she didn't perform either circumcision or a dorsal slit she wasn't able to tell us why he had bled.  (I tried to make a joke here asking if they had a mohel on staff.)  He was very loud about not wanting to go under the knife.  She tried to scare/reason with him by saying that she would rather see him in her office before an emergency that might really put him in the emergency room.  He once again said something like the trouble with doctors is that they want to perform these new procedures and she said it was hardly a new procedure and that she had performed it many times.  (Once again -- reasoning.  It just don't work.)  As a person sensitive to nonverbal cues, I could observe/feel her irritation rising to meet his (she was pretty steely) though she kept her voice calm and said that she respected his decision. She was also kind when she helped him pull up his undies.

And that was that.  We paid nothing.

I was actually most upset when I found out that his weight is down to 130 but as my friend Stacey reminded me last night, losing interest in food is one of the steps of the body getting ready for death.  It's a natural process.