After Dad moved into a nursing home, I became his “personal shopper” for clothing. It was always frustrating, trying to find clothes that fit his shrunken frame, looked and felt good to the touch, were relatively easy to put on and remove, and would stand up to frequent washings in an industrial-type laundry facility. As hard as I tried, I don’t think I ever met all these simple goals- something was always being sacrificed. And it didn’t take long before even good quality shirts and pants became faded, shapeless, even shabby-looking.
I vividly remember how I felt slitting the backs of all my late father’s shirts, and how unsatisfactory the results were. I can still see him wincing with pain every time the staff had to pull anything over his head or lift his arms to insert them or remove them from sleeves.
I also know that, in his last weeks, his clothing was probably not changed as often as it could have been, in hopes of sparing him any additional distress. I would have given anything to make my Dad more comfortable.
Contributed by Heather B, Daughter