His mind is slipping. He tries to hang on to the simplest frame of reference, asking again and again what day it is.
His eyes can read but he forgets what he just read.
He has nothing to say. Even the days of long ago do not stay whole long enough for him to retell the stories heard a hundred times.
He discarded his hearing aids
He struggles to add numbers, to remember what he wanted a minute ago, to make it to the bathroom on time.
He forgets to get dressed but does not forget his cigarettes.
He no longer wants to feed his dog or pet him
TV is on all day. He says he doesn’t understand anything but stays hypnotized all the same, interrupting the boredom with pornography on his PC.
But he remembers his medication.
I am his daughter, the fetch-it girl.