Here We Go Again... And Again

We went to the doctor yesterday for a follow up on Dad’s light-headedness, low blood pressure and heart rate, and dizzy spells. I also wanted his arm checked out because I have been unable to completely stop the bleeding. I was reassured to hear I had done a good job debriding it and to keep doing the same stuff we always do with these types of injuries.
In light of the pain in the back of Dad’s head, the doctor was once again referring us to the Neurologist. The dizzy spells could be a symptom instead of a side-effect.
We went over his medications again, cutting several more in half. The biggest change for Dad would be cutting back his Trazodone from a whole to a half. (Trazodone is an antidepressant medication. It is thought to increase the activity of one of the brain chemicals (serotonin) which may become unbalanced and cause depression.
Read more: http://www.drugs.com/trazodone.html#ixzz0nv80eUx2.) It can be very useful for the treatment of sleeplessness. As we learned last night, Dad is not ready for a change on this medication.

Dad took his meds at dinner as usual. He was feeling off-kilter throughout dinner. My sister-in-law, Susan, and I left to go pick up Dad’s prescription. When Dad finished his dinner, he told Richard he was tired and going to bed (even though it was barely 7:30 and still quite light outside).
We got back just before dark. I went to check on Dad. His night light was off (which is highly unusual) so I leaned down and turned it on, which woke him up. I assured him it was “just me” and approached the bed. He was lying on top of the made bed without a shirt on.
I held out my hand. “I need your patch,” I pointed out.
“I took it off,” he replied automatically. His hand slid over his bare chest until he discovered the patch still firmly in place. “No, I didn’t.” He removed it and handed it to me.
I showed him that I had his credit card and said I would put it in his wallet. He nodded.
“Dad, are you ok?”
“I was feeling flukie at dinner so I decided it was a good idea to go to bed.”
“Flukie how?” I asked as I came back to stand beside him.
“I don’t know,” he couldn’t explain it. “Just flukie.”
“Dad, does your head or neck hurt?”
“No, I just don’t feel quite right… you know… I just feel kind of flukie.”
We were obviously getting nowhere with this conversation. I bent down and kissed his cheek. “If you get up, use your walker,” I reminded him. Please, Dad, I’m trying to keep you safe. I need you to help me. I need you around here.” He patted my hand and told me goodnight then closed his eyes.

I went back downstairs to hang out on our porch with Richard and Susan. About 30 minutes later, Susan went up to the kitchen for ice. She stepped out the kitchen door, closed it behind her and headed down the outside stairs.
She only made it a few steps down when the door flew open and Dad leaned out. “Susan! Susan! Did you hear me calling you???”
Susan froze on the stairs without turning around. “Yes, Dad. I did,” she replied with a sigh.
“You need to get back in here. Go in that room and go to bed!”
In her soft little singsong voice, she said, “Well, Dad… I’m hanging out down here with Richard and Shari right now. We are talking and visiting.”
His anger was palpable as she resumed her descent once more. “You don’t need to be hanging out,” he spat. “Our neighbors aren’t use to people behaving like this. Carrying on and making noise til all hours. These are decent hard working people in this neighborhood. They don’t like to be disturbed.”

Please note, it wasn’t even 9:30 yet and we had just been sitting around talking. We didn’t even have music playing. The bottom line was, Dad couldn’t sleep and the dementia was winding him up. As he closed the kitchen door, still mumbling, I made a decision. I told Richard I would be right back. I headed up the stairs and into the kitchen. As soon as I stepped inside I asked him, “Where is your walker, Dad?”
His glare softened as he looked at me. “In the bedroom. I forgot it again. But I can’t sleep with all this going on.”
I slowly began guiding him across the kitchen. I could feel his agitation bristling in his muscles. He stopped short and turned to me. “How many people are here right now?”
“6” I replied.
“You and me are 2. Richard and her are 2. Who else? That’s only 4.”
“Jordyn and Cameryn make 6,” I pointed out. Jeremy was at work so I deliberately left him out of my count. I knew where this was headed. We have been through this so many times before.
“Now, listen to me,” he implored me. “And don’t go setting pissed off. You always get pissed off when I say this.” I nodded but kept my silence. Here it comes…
“There are too many people in this house. We shouldn’t be doing anything that can draw our neighbors attention to us. They are all millionaires and they just aren’t use to a lot of noise and people running around. If we piss them off,they are going to go to the Board (Homeowner’s Association) and we are going to get thrown out of here. There are too many people here! I am just trying to make sure we don’t lose our house! Nobody wants to listen to me. You all think I’m just a crazy old man…”
I slowly counted to 10 so I would remain patient and quietly said, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Dad.” I let that sink in and asked, “Dad, when you and Mom brought your kids here weren’t there 7 of you in a house?”
“Hell,” he answered. “There were usually 10 or 12 of us. Friends of the kids, friends of ours…”
I felt him beginning to drift into old memories. I touched his arm softly and drew him back to the present.
“Was it a problem to have that many people in the house?”
“No,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Then I guess I just don’t understand what the problem is.” I handed him ½ a Trazodone and a glass of water.
He took it from me and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed it up and swallowed it, he thanked me. He said somewhat apologetically that he must have forgotten to have taken it.
“No, Dad. Dr. Hight wanted you to try taking half of your sleeping pill but that’s just not going to work tonight. You are cranky and I’m just trying to help you get some sleep. You look worn out.”
He hugged me and turned back to shuffle off to his room. I followed him closely watching him carefully for any signs of unsteadiness.
I got him settled into bed again… and reminded him to use the walker if he got up again… and kissed him goodnight again… and I told him I loved him again… and he thanked me again…
And today we will begin it all over again…