Battered & Bruised, Dazed & Confused

Today has been a nightmare, dealing with Dad. He is aggressive, defiant, belligerent and completely confused. This morning he lined up wastebaskets on the kitchen floor and refused to let me move them. He had no reason for his action other than he wanted them right where they were. It was over 2 hours before I could finally get them back in their rightful places.

This afternoon, he took pictures off the wall in the living room and laid them out on the floor for no apparent reason. As I was rehanging them, he asked me why I had taken them down. When I told him I hadn’t, he said the kids must have done it. I didn’t even bother to explain we were the only 2 people at home. Then he slipped out the front door and proceeded to go down the steps (which he is NOT allowed to do). I found him sitting on the steps calmly cleaning his fingernails. Bear in mind, he NEVER goes outside unless we have a doctor’s appointment or someone stops by. When I tried to patiently explain that he is not supposed to go up or down stairs, he got angry and began cussing and yelling at me. Nothing like a scene on the front steps to get your blood boiling. I simply threw my hands in the air and followed behind him as closely as I could.

During dinner, he was insistent he needed to call Richard. It rapidly became a fixation so I told him we would call as soon as he was finished eating. I dialed the number for him and handed him the phone. I was shocked to hear him cheerfully tell Richard how nice it was to meet his wife after all these years. Suddenly, I realized he didn’t recognize me at all. I’m not sure who he must have thought I was prior to that. The next couple of hours were spent trying to explain to him that he had met me for the first time today, that he has known me for 31 years and that I have lived here with him for the last 3. His comprehension of it was completely absent. This went on until suddenly, like a veil being lifted from his eyes, the recognition returned and with it came mortification at his actions.

He doesn’t want to use his walker all of the sudden and he gets angry when he is reminded of it. Yesterday, he pushed it into me on purpose. Today he actually lifted it and swung it into the back of my knees, while yelling, “If I want to use the f*cking thing I will!” It almost knocked me off my feet. If I roll it toward him, he either pushes it back at me forcefully or he snatches it away and bangs it on the floor. He is a petulant child about it. It has never been an issue before. He uses it because he knows he needs it. Surprisingly, he has been pretty steady without it. But it is a necessity to help prevent falls and he DOES have to use it.

This disease batters and bruises the heart, mind and soul (and occasionally the body). It sucks the breath right out of you. It takes you by surprise at every turn until you are exhausted and drained. It frequently leaves you dazed and confused. Now, all of this is from the caregiver’s perspective. Imagine for a moment what it must be like to be the person with the disease. Go ahead, just try. Never mind, you can’t and neither can I.