Back With Things to Say

April 2, 2011

I am the first to admit it's been a while. I apologize to my readers and I apologize to myself. So much has happened since last August. I realized today that I haven't been able to write because I have been too bogged down in the day-to-day chaos of just living here. I am going to give a quick overview and tell you that Dad has been hospitalized 3 times since Aug. Once for Crohn's Disease, once for dehydration and once for his heart. Last Oct. his oldest living daughter (and one of my dearest friends EVER) died very unexpectedly and our lives again were shattered. Ironically, Dad's Alzheimer's provided him protection from the realities of it all.

Living with someone who suffers from Dementia/Alzheimer's is similar to living in a war ravaged third world country. Unpredictability and instability become the norm. At any given moment, (with no rhyme or reason) anyone can be seen as the enemy and suddenly clarity ceases to exist. It happens in the blink of an eye. Being the caregiver of someone who is completely irrational at times and requires 24/7 care is without a doubt the most frustrating, exasperating and exhausting role I have ever taken on. But the times when it is satisfying, fulfilling and rewarding makes it all worth it. Unfortunately, there is absolutely no way to find such a thing as balance when dealing with Dementia.

In essence, I am dealing with an 89 year old child most days. Frequently, he is aware that he is misbehaving but is unable to control the behavior. And if he misbehaves, his illness enables him to forget it the moment anything happens. I am firmly convinced that most of the negative behavior he exhibits is born of his overwhelming sense of frustration. The limitations that have been imposed on him by his many physical ailments, his age, and his mental instability are taking a friendly, out-going, active, humorous, hard working, life loving man and making him a shell of his former self. (Though, I have to admit, he still has an awesome sense of humor at times!) He is so seldom animated anymore that I have to be grudgingly grateful for even the bad behaviors.

Here, I'll give you an example. When we left our last doctor's appointment the other day, Dad insisted on collapsing his walker and putting it in the back seat of the car unaided. I stood by helplessly watching his struggle. After several minutes, I stepped forward to help. Out of nowhere, I received a forearm across my chest that sent me reeling backward. Dad turned to me shaking with rage and yelled, "I can f-ing do it myself!" His frustration mounted as he continued to fight with walker and I stood terrified he was going to give himself a heart attack with the strain. A couple of minutes later, he finally got it shoved in (in a position that put a wheel directly into the back of my head).
For so many reasons, I wanted to rest my head on the steering wheel and cry. My frustration at it all enabled me to see his frustration so much more clearly than I already do. Those are the moments when I can hear my heart crack a bit more in the surrounding silence. As I started the car, I glanced over at him. On his face I could clearly see his pride, his sense of accomplishment in having successfully accomplished a task he had set for himself. And I could feel the crack slowly beginning to heal.