There is never a time when it’s ok to touch your father’s junk. NEVER. Yet, after becoming his part-time caregiver, my father’s junk has become an accidental part of my world.

A little bit of filler.

I moved my dad back to California after my mom died in Texas a little over 3 years now. Cali is where I was born and raised and where my dad grew up. So it seemed like a good plan to bring him back to his family. Little did we know about a year and half later that his brain would take a crapper after suffering two strokes and we would be faced with a million new challenges.

You see I’m an only child and this has all of this has become my new life. Obviously, this was never something I planned for and, to be fair, neither did he. Under our new life as father and daughter, it would seem that planning anything from here on out wouldn’t be that great of an idea.


Now back to the story at hand.

After spending 2 months in rehab, I was finally able to bring him home. Dad was desperately longing for a long hot shower. Long hot showers are his greatest joy. He doesn’t know what the drought means, because when it comes to his shower he will soak until the water turns cold.

So on my first day as a caregiver, we attempted to get him in the shower. Any caregiver will tell you, this is considered “advanced caregiving” and since this was our first try, we were having some difficulty. I told him to leave his shorts on and I would help him swing his legs over the edge of the tub. Then, after I left, he could toss his shorts out.

It was a good plan. But remember what I said about planning?

After some juggling, he was able to finally take that long shower he’d been fantasizing about for months. Undisturbed. Long and hot.


After some time, I heard him yelling out for me.

It seems we did not account for the bench in the tub to be squishy soft. Yes the bench in the tub, left by the previous owner, was basically foam on a board with a waterproof upholstery fabric wrapped around it.

Dad’s butt cheeks were stuck and he couldn’t lift them far enough off the bench to swing his legs out to get out of the shower. I was mortified, there was my poor dad, naked in front of me for the first time and his ass cheeks were stuck.

I grabbed a towel so that he could cover himself and eventually was able to maneuver enough to get a hand towel under him so that he could swing his legs out enough to get himself out. By this point, the awkwardness of his nakedness was pretty much gone and all we could do was laugh about it.

On a side note, I grew up with a grandmother, my dad’s mother, who walked around the house completely nude. We’re talking full everything. So nudity wasn’t really an issue, it was just that… you know… it was my DAD!

We continued to laugh ourselves through the situation until he was able to get to a point where he could wrap a towel around himself.

Once in the his bedroom, he attempted to sit on the edge of the bed and totally missed! I jumped into action to keep him from hitting the ground and I found my forearm right in between his legs where his junk landed! If you thought we were laughing before…

“Dad! First your ass cheeks and now your junk!?”

This can’t be happening, I thought as I guided him to the edge of the bed with his junk on my forearm.

“Stop pushing!” He yelled.

“Dad you’re falling, what do you want me to do!?”

“You’re squishing my nads!”

The comedy continued until we were finally able to get him back on the edge of the bed. Crisis averted but I’ll never really be able to get that experience out of my head.


Let’s face it, touching your father’s junk should NEVER happen. NEVER. But when you’re a caregiver, “never” becomes subjective.

This was only the first day of my experience as a caregiver. It has been almost 2 years now and the challenges keep coming. No matter how much you want to plan or try to plan, there really will be a lot of bumps along the way.

In the end, you can only take everything one day at a time. And even through all the stresses of not knowing what’s coming next, I have been able to find a way to be optimistic and as helpful as I possibly can. My dad is worth it.

Even if it means accidentally touching his junk.

One response to “GUEST COLUMN: My Dad’s Junk

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