Lost and Never Found

Not sure if I’m good at losing things or really bad at finding things. ~Unknown

We were at a neighborhood taco spot when I reached for the salt and pepper and gasped. There were choppers (yes, teeth!) plopped right beside the condiments. I glanced over, saw the sunken pursed lips, and knew immediately whose teeth had made their escape. In public, no less. Good golly!

So started, at least for me, the saga of Pop’s missing teeth. The adventure took us to the retirement community’s lost and found desk, to the top of dishes cleared by the dining staff, deep into pockets flagged by the laundry detail, and too many times, into his apartment garbage where they had been thrown away.

I asked Carl multiple times about why he kept taking his dentures out. Were they hurting him? Had they become uncomfortable? We immediately had him fitted for a new pair, which didn’t change the behavior at all. Like the bed episode, he simply preferred to not wear them. Missing items started adding up. Glasses, clothing, briefs, silverware – you name it. A black hole had taken residence in his apartment.

We all deal with misplacing keys. Where are my sunglasses? Did you find the remote? But the frequency – and the result of never finding things in a small, contained space – was alarming. Pop does have various caregivers checking in daily, and some items may have been accidentally moved or discarded. For the most part, though, it was Carl throwing things away. We eventually tried to put some guardrails in place.

We placed signs above his garbage can and hamper to alert the staff to do a quick check before emptying them. My sister sewed his name into his clothes to keep things straight in the laundry room. A slim address sticker went inside the temple of his glasses so staff could return them when they turned up on the dining table.

As for the teeth – we stopped replacing them after two lost sets in just a few months. It’s not easy seeing the sunken profile of your father’s face. But Carl doesn’t mind. We all have to pivot and adjust expectations as our parents age – and so do we. I’ve learned to work around it, choosing soft foods and treats when I visit. Did I ever mention – Carl really likes ice cream!