Tag: Dad

Does it Rain in Your Shower?

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As the stream of hot water cascades down my body I begin to relax. The tension that I have been carrying around in my muscles begins to ease. I stand there with my back against the flow of water. The heat feels amazing and for the first time I cry. It rains in my shower. I am so sad that I can’t share my sorrow. I feel like I have no one to talk to. I have anger I don’t know what to do with. I feel defeated and small. Even when life seems to be moving along a set path the wind changes course and the path moves. Its subtlety goes unnoticed until it blindsides me. I try to pay attention as closely as I can. I am constantly making lists. Dad’s needs, hubster’s needs, my needs. What both households are out of. A list of bills to be paid, when to pay these bills when I can, if I can. The last eight years have not been an easy ride.

Dad’s dementia has pretty much been of a certain level. He is pleasantly confused.  More often than not he is happy and a tad confused. He doesn’t know what day of the week it is. He doesn’t remember how my Mom or my kid sister died. My Dad thinks that they are out somewhere having lunch. Who am I to correct him? Ignorant bliss. In my humble opinion, this is the ONE blessing of dementia. On the other hand, he forgets my birthday, holidays, anything of importance. His reality is unlike those around him. His world is only about his wants, his needs, his anger. Dad gets angry. It doesn’t happen often. Usually it is over trivial things that have importance only to him.

I couldn’t find him. I called his apartment that morning on schedule. By 11:15 I was beginning to worry. I called the neighbor. The horror thoughts raced through my mind. Maybe he fell and couldn’t get up; maybe he felt faint and then passed out; maybe he had wandered off: maybe he died. After the fourth ring the neighbor picked up. She scarcely got out a hello before I blurted out, “have you seen my Dad today?” Yes she had. Right before my every morning call he had an episode of weakness and a sudden feeling that he was going to pass out so my Dad( king of can’t remember shit )dialed 911 unassisted. She had tried to get over to his apartment before the first responders came but they beat her to his door. She tried to reach me but my cell went straight to voicemail. After the third try she left a voice message of her own for me to call her ASAP.

The paramedics took him to the hospital ER and thus my life, his life changed forever. He was admitted with the possibility of a mild case of pneumonia. In all likelihood my Dad would be just fine  after a few days of meds. He would once again return home to live in harmony with his altered reality. That, however; is not what happened.

My mother died June 11, 2007. I started taking care of my Dad the day of her funeral. Maybe that’s the day his soul gave out. He couldn’t handle that she passed. My Dad loved my mother with his whole being and when she died I think he broke. He has never been quite the same,not for one minute or one second of any day. As time marched on he got a little more forgetful, a little more fearful, a tad bit more frail. I took on more responsibility. I made out the grocery lists. I made sure his pills were matched out correctly. I made out the bills. I took him for haircuts. I took him to all his doctor appointments. I shopped for his clothes. (Yes I have great taste) I took him to church. Just me and Dad against the world. Until this last trip through the ER.

My father, whom I have cared for and loved and did my best to keep safe was being taken away from me. Okay so maybe that’s a little harsh. A case manager and a social worker at our local hospital felt that my Dad was now too frail of body and mind to be allowed to be released on his own recognizance and needed to be remanded to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. To be placed in a facility with around the clock supervision. Yup, you guessed it, a nursing home.

Once upon a time in a land far far away there lived a giant of a man. My Dad
Once upon a time in a land far far away there lived a giant of a man. My Dad

I can’t lie. I have thought about it. I am getting tired. I am not Wonder Woman. I wanted to fight the good fight. I didn’t want to give up on the man who never gave up on me.

Does in rain in YOUR shower? It does in mine everyday.

 

When the Sh*t Hits the Fan…

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…it might be wise to have a back up plan. I am planning one now.

Fear. No one likes fear. Not what it can do to you or how it can make you feel small or weak. Recently I have not been feeling up to snuff. As this week moved along my uncold turned to a death knell. As most of my readers know I take care of my Dad, who suffers with dementia. I try to take care of myself, my manchild/husband and my Dad. Sometimes the craziness of my situation takes over and I am no longer in control of the important things, like my health. I haven’t been this ill in a very long time. I know it is my body’s way of telling me to fix things, to pay more attention to it. OK! Message received.

I am talking about fear because it has come in waves this week. Being ill has taken a toll on me. This cold zapped me of all of my energies. It stole my voice. It fogged over my mind. It made me helpless and weak. I struggled to draw breath. Mostly importantly it kept me from attending to the important things in my life that need daily attention. I was unable to get to my Dad for three days. He called the neighbors and begged for bread and milk. He had both but I am sure he thought (in his kaleidoscope reasoning) he needed to stock up in case I failed to return.

I was angry. Not at my Dad but at this COLD. This cold put my Dad into a potentially dangerous situation. His memory is gapped in several places and completely changed or erased in others. He has to be directed in every day tasks or he loses his place. He needs to be guided. I finally made it over there last night. He had peanut butter, jelly and Fluff, Hell, West and crooked. He had jelly in his hair, on his pants, across his face. He was in desperate need of a shower.

I love this pic of Dad and I. You can see how much we look alike.
I love this pic of Dad and I. You can see how much we look alike.

I cleaned up the kitchen as best as I could and then we moved to the task of getting Dad into the shower. I assure you not a fun task. Dad gets angry when it is shower time. In his mind he is certain he has taken a shower just that morning. I wish that were truth. If I left it to Dad he would rot in the outfit of his choice.

This cold taught me that Dad can longer be left on his own. I have avoided putting my Dad into a nursing home or other such living arrangements for as long as possible. I have had the paperwork for some time now. It is mostly filled out. I have spoken with his primary care doctor. We are both in agreement that he needs to be placed. How do I put aside my fear, my disappointment, my anger in order to find him a place? A safe place. I know no one will ever take care of him like I do. I have to find a way to get over my worries and do what has to be done. I love this man. I have to do what is best for him and for me.

It’s Sunday Morning

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For the first time in months I have been allowed to sleep in. Somehow my hubby most have gotten engrossed in a book or is playing a video game or he might even be watching TV. Harder still to believe that my phone did not jolt me awake at 6ish a.m. with a barrage of questions from my Dad. I roll over still hazy with sleep. I can sort of see through my blurry vision that it is 8:27 a.m.! Hard for me to believe it is really this late. Ever wonder why the morning muscle stretch feels so damn good? I don’t know either but what an awesome way to start a day. As I stretch out my limbs the phone rings. I reach over to grab the cordless from the night stand. I don’t even have to check the caller ID I know it is my Dad. “Trish?”
“Yes, Pops.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Nope. I just woke up, the cat was letting me pat her so I was lounging in bed. What do you need?”
“What day is it? Sunday?”
“It is. Did you take your pills this morning?” I can hear him open the cabinet door. “Wait a minute. I’ll do it now.” He puts his end of the line down. I can hear the fridge door open. I yell into the receiver,” drink water!”
“Water?”
“Yes, water.” After another minute of me trying to hear over the phone what is going on in my Dad’s apartment, from across the city, he picks up his line again. “Mission accomplished.” I can almost see him smile his goofy smile into the phone. ” Are you coming over today?”
“Yes, Dad. I come over everyday. But, first I need coffee and breakfast and a hot shower.”

Real Life Gets in the Way

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Recently I haven’t blogged very much. No, I am not bored, duty called. I am my Dad’s primary care giver. He is not in great health, is nearly blind and has dementia.  Every once in awhile LIFE (that bitch) throws us a curve ball and I am forced to think on the slide. I do my best to run two households. I shop, clean, do dishes, meal prep, pay bills, run errands, and attend to everything else that pops up, blows up or stops working. Sometimes my circuits overload and I STOP functioning.  Fact of Life.

Dad passed out March 30th. I called 911 after he passed out on me the second time. Did I ever tell you just how much I hate ER departments?  Imagine if someone in our lovely government had to WAIT for endless hours before they were seen? Big changes would soon follow I am sure. Anyway I had no idea what might be wrong with Dad but after many hours of waiting I was (we were) told that Dad had an UTI. He was going to be admitted, medicated and hydrated.  I went home for some much needed tears and sleep.

Dad’s initial hospital stay was 3 days. I say initial because shortly after the hospital discharged him into my care I had to return him to the ER. I knew the moment we climbed into the Jeep something was really wrong. I mean wrong not because Dad was swaging a Foley cath either. He was hallucinating. It has been a few weeks but Dad is on the mend. He is home again. I am trying to get outside help to come see him while I am at work. Hopefully I will have that up and running for him soon. If it all works out he will meet new people and I, I will have the occasional night off . Things now are happily getting back on track.Yippee

I feel badly sometimes that I blog as a way to vent my frustrations. I might, to the occasion reader, seem gloomy and/or depressed. I assure I am not. What I am is OVERWHELMED some days.  I need to start posting the great things and not just the things that tweak me. There are moments that need to be shared that show the better parts of my life and who I am. Not for you but for me so that when I re- read some of my missives I may see that there is more to me, to my world, to my Dad.

Stay with me I promise you lighter days filled with laughter and song and not just because weed is legal (for medicinal purposes) in Massachusetts. = )

…And in case I have never said it before THANKS for reading and being there.

 

 

 

Lost My Sh*t Sunday

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Not every day can be stellar. Some are doomed from the first jarring ring of the alarm clock. I hate days like that. I was fooled today. I thought today was going to be a history maker. You know what I am talking about that kind of day when everything fits and you are in the zone. I slept well. I felt well. I was waking up and it was NOT snowing. I barely got my first cup of coffee down when my perfect day suddenly twisted in on itself.

I am struggling with the everyday need. He needs me. He Needs me. HE NEEDS ME. Some days he calls me fifteen times in the span of a few hours. I get overwhelmed. I can’t catch my breath. I feel small, alone, helpless, a failure. I am tired. There is no room in my life for anything. I take excellent care of my Dad; yet at the end of my day I feel like I have accomplished nothing.

My Dad (yes, with a capital D)  is a hot mess. He lives with dementia. I love this man. He has taught me so many things. He helped to shape the person I am today. I love to laugh, sing and watch old Tarzan movies. He took his daughters on many odd, out of the way field trips, therefore I am adventurous. He loved ice cream, still does but I won’t let him eat too much of it. He loved us with his whole being. I saw him cry a few times when he thought he had let one of us down. My Dad is one of the good guys.

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Dementia takes a toll from everyone involved. It magnifies your loved ones quirks. My Dad was always slightly mistrustful. Now he doesn’t trust a soul not even himself. He is easily frustrated and doesn’t  remember how to calm himself down when he gets  worked up. He is lonely in a crowded room. It is too hard for him to follow a conversation if there are more than two or three people involved. He thinks that people break into his house to leave things. This always makes me laugh. “Pop, for real? Who breaks into someone’s house to leave stuff? No one does that. Well, not any crooks I ever heard of !”

His life revolves around routine. Disrupt the routine disrupt the peace. Winter is a tough ride for us. Every storm brings a new challenge. Anxiety is the worst enemy. He starts to worry that I won’t be able to get to him. He worries the lights will go out. He worries he will run out of food ( ice cream ). He worries I will die and no one will take care of him. He worries so much he frazzles my last nerve.

You know what I miss? I miss him. The man I called Daddy was strong, handsome, funny. He made me feel safe, loved.

I lost my sh*t Sunday. He called. He sounded nervous and unsure of himself. He said he needed me right away. I picked up the phone, I yelled at him and hung up…and then I cried and cried and cried. I want someone to tell me that everything will be ok even if it’s not the reality. I want my Dad to have his memories. I want him to be free.