Observations on quality time with my 84 year old father, day 27, part 2

• He lost my mom’s debit card.

“Why are you using mom’s card? You have your own. You also have power of attorney and notified the bank months ago. You have full access to her account.”

The reasons are convoluted: needs to have access to the balance info of a pension she receives. Has he contacted the pension office? Half answers and mumbles. Sitting in the banker’s office, I keep waiting for him to mention she’s dead. Instead, there’s the term “non compos mentis.” Did he forget?

“Can’t he just get a card that allows access to both accounts?” I ask? I’m too shocked to hear the answer and in less than a minute I move to the waiting area, hoping that by not being in the room I won’t be stained by his omission. More people seem to be helping him. Three in total. What’s taking so long? Am I paranoid or is the frog march next? Maybe…I’ll just wait outside the front door.

Finally he ambles out. “I don’t know what took them so long,” he crows. “Dad”, I say, “don’t ever do that again.” “Do what?” he says. “Tell a bank officer a lie while I’m in the room.” “What are you talking about? I need her card.” I’m starting to fume now. “I’ve spent 26 days here Dad, and it wasn’t so either of us would end up in jail.” More denials. Finally, I’m screaming, pointing and cursing. I’m frothing. First I think he may hit me. Then I see he’s wounded. It’s come to this at long last. The narcissist will put me at risk for a few hundred dollars a month. It’s time to get back to Seattle. It’s not funny anymore. I need Korean food…badly.

© Curt Weiss 2014