AUSTIN, Texas, Apr. 11, 2005 — Dad called early and declared that he was getting worse. He was so adamant about it that I didn't go work out. I called the GP, got an appointment for 10:30 and showered and dressed and went over there. He had me get out the walker. He had tried using two random canes and one of them had shattered. He made it to the appointment with the walker. He is now complaining of pain shooting down both legs.

The doctor gave some more anti-inflammatories and I had that prescription. He needed some more of his other meds and I called the automatic system at Walgreen's and tried to renew them, switching to the pharmacist to try to get his primary care switched to the new doctor.

I make two trips to the pharmacy. One to deliver the one prescription and another to pick everything up including a urinal so he doesn't have to stand so much. (His idea. He is good at all the aspects of invalidness and nursing. Only usually it hasn't applied to him.)

I get him to eat. I sliced some ham he had cooked and he eats it with bread and fruit. He sends me for some brisket and cole slaw for dinner. He starts on the anti-inflammatory drugs and I hope they will get him on his feet again.

At this point he has had me get the wheelchairs out of storage. One is an old heavy model that my grandmother (who died in 1978) used. The other is a travel chair. It's lighter but you have to be pushed or use your feet. We bought it for my mother in May 2002 (when she was in so much pain she refused to walk) so we could take her to appointments. We barely used it because she was hospitalized shortly thereafter and never came home. He now says it hurts too bad to take a step.

When I leave my dad, I feel bad. I worry. What is wrong that hurts so bad? Can I get him walking? At home I sat around, watching TV, snacking, drinking a Manhattan and feeling hopeless.