The Shopping Chore

For decades my dad did all of the household shopping. He actually enjoyed doing it. In fact, he enjoyed it so much that after he retired hardly a day went by when he didn’t go buy groceries or housewares or just about anything else necessary to keep a house running well. Since his worsening condition has taken away that manifestation of independence, it falls on me to assume the task. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if not for the fact that I hate shopping.

Back when I was in college, I used to go grocery shopping almost every day. It was a chore, but I was only shopping for me, and concerned for little more than what I’d be eating for the next day or so. It probably wouldn’t annoy me so if it weren’t for two things: 1) It got dumped on me instead of me getting a chance to grow into it (as with most shoppers for their families); and B) I have to let my dad tag along. The most wearing thing is that last one. While it gives my mom a respite from having to be with my dad all the rest of the time, for me it’s like having to take my proverbial baby sister with me whenever I go out. I have to keep my eye on the old guy all the time to make sure he doesn’t get overwhelmed, or wander, or any other sort of mischief. It makes shopping that much more difficult (and slower).

To be fair, I should be thankful. In not too many more months (or weeks), my dad probably won’t be able to go out much. I think he enjoys the time we spend together because I try to offer him a little more dignity, patience, and respect than his disease allows him for himself. In many ways, it’s an honor to be in this position of trust, and I try not to take it for granted. So, if the price I have to pay are these multi-hour shopping trips a few times a week…well, I guess there are worse hardships.