Yesterday was a bad day for dad. When I walked onto the locked unit three of the personnel said they were glad to see me because they were about to call my mom. Dad had just pulled another resident’s hair. I found him sitting in one of the rocking chairs in the tv room. My hands were full of the donut and cappuchino I’d brought with me for him and a tea for myself. I was thankful I had thought ahead of reinforcements. I was going to need them today.
“Hi, daddy. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you pull that women’s hair?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go for a ride.” He shuffled with me to his room so I could put his jacket on. I put the donut in his hand. I was able to grab the wrapping out of the way before he ate a bite.
“MMM! That’s good.”
“Yes. I brought it just for you.” His eyebrows raise. I grab his hand and we shuffle slowly off the unit and to my car. On our way out his CNA stops me to tell me he refused to eat his breakfast and that today was his shower day. I told her I was taking him on a ride to try to calm him down and we would try a shower later. The providers try but dad exhausts me in the few hours I am with him and I only deal with him. I can’t imagine trying to manage a 25 person ward with seven or eight people. It is thankless work.
Durng the car ride, he didn’t make much sense. The only things I could understand was something that meant he was asking if David was leaving me alone. I told him yes. And the other thing was he was with mom and me over the weekend when mom bought Ethan his birthday gifts of two video games. He asked if “the boys” got their games and liked them. I said yes. But he couldn’t follow my answer to his question either time. I prepared him on the way back that we would take a shower before lunch.
It didn’t occur to me until Tammy, the director of the Alzheimer’s unit dad lives on, said it to me that day, but I knew that eventually the disease makes the person fearful of water. So when my father who rarely shed a curse word except when hurting himself was swearing at me trying to avoid getting into the water, it was not me he was upset with. Of course it was me he was upset with when I put his adult diaper on wrong.
He was still anxious after this. He wanted to go off the unit again.
“C’mon now. C’mon. Let’s go. Let’s go get a steak. C’mon. C’mon. Where’d the girl go?” He’s dragging me up and down the hall of the unit because I’m telling him no, I’m not taking him out. No, I don’t have money for a steak. Finally, I take him out on the patio. I sit us in the sun. He tries to get up and go.
“Dad, we don’t have anywhere to be. Lunch isn’t for 10 more minutes. Remember, you’re retired.”
“Yeah, I’m retired. And I got a nice shower.”
“Yes, you did.”
Mom called. While I was talking to her, he dozed off. When he woke up a few minutes later we went in so he could eat 10 bites of fish, 5 bites of lasagna and two cups of ice cream before I went and laid him down for a nap. When he kissed me goodbye he said goodbye to “the boys.” Mom believes he thought my kids were with me. I don’t know, maybe someone was in the room he could see that I couldn’t.
I love him. I can put him to bed and drive away. He must live in that hell 24 hours a day, every day. If you read this, and it moves you, please pray for his peace. No one deserves to live that hell.
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