I Wonder Why God Doesn't Like Turtles

6-1-12
One of the Stage 6 tricks we’ve come to know intimately is the “after nap meltdown”. Dad takes a nap nearly every afternoon. No matter how clear he may be when he lies down, he wakes up suffering from paranoid delusions. I am positive he’s dreaming the things he describes but he is utterly convinced that they are real and happening around him.
A couple of days ago, he walked around the living room loading his walker with photos of Mom, a couple of magazines, his cookies, etc. I asked him what he was doing. He told me he had to pack because the military people who were taking over the house would be here soon. According to him, he had been in contact with some military people and they needed the house for a “top secret hideout”. He was very upset that he couldn’t remember which branch of the military it was. “Not that it matters”, he said. “As long as they are fighting for the US of A, it’s all the same.”
It took me almost 2 hours to convince him it was all just a dream. About the time he started accepting that, he looked around the room. He wiped his shaky hands over his wrinkled face and said quite loudly, “Jesus H. Christ in the Foothills! What is happening to me?” Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked over at me. “Sweetheart, what is happening to me?”
I went to him and knelt next to his chair. I took his hand in mine. “It’s that darn disease, Dad. It’s just messing with you right now.” I kissed him on the cheek. “It’ll be okay in a little while. Why don’t you see what’s happening on the Weather Channel for me. I heard it might rain.” I thank God frequently for building an ADD mechanism into Alzheimer’s. I made it to the kitchen before I started to cry.


In the course of one afternoon recently, Dad was in a plane, a boat, and on a streetcar. He interrupted his own story several times to ask me when “Johnny was coming home”. Each time I would reply, “Dad, Johnny isn’t coming home. He passed away more than 40 years ago.” Johnny was his brother.
Dad: “Oh, who are you married to then?”
Me: “Richard.”
Dad: “Richard who?”
Me: “Richard, he is your youngest child.”
Dad: “Oh sure. I knew that. Of course, I knew that.” He goes back to watching TV for a minute. I head toward the kitchen. “Say, Sweetheart, when you get a minute can you come here? I really need to talk to you about this flying business.”
I go back and sit down. “What about this flying business?”
Dad: “I think the government is asking too much from me. I told that guy that took me up in his plane this morning that I just think I am too old to be flying planes anymore. I’m honored they offered me the job. I know we need the money but I think we should tell him to find somebody else. What do you think?”
Me: “I think you’re right, Dad. Should I give him a call for you?”
Dad: “I would appreciate it, Sweetheart. I can always count on you.”
Not knowing what else to do, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my voicemail. With Dad hanging on my every word, I explained that his doctors really didn’t think a 90 year old man should be flying a plane. I even said that his medication could cause problems at high altitudes but that he wanted them to know he was deeply honored to be asked. When I finished my “call” he visibly relaxed and held his hand out toward me. I got up and took it in mine. He squeezed my hand then kissed the back of it. “That was perfect. Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you… except die.”
I dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere but to the kitchen to start dinner, so you don’t have to worry about doing without me.”

6-3-12
Sundowner’s Syndrome is a huge factor in our everyday life. Dad becomes more confused and disoriented as the sun gets lower on the horizon. He becomes an entirely different person than he is at any other time of day. Once the sun sets, it’s a 50/50 prospect of whether he will snap out of it or not. Lately, it is more not. He is far more paranoid at night and at times, he is hostile.

Another fact of stage 6: Dad seems to have forgotten some basic things. He seldom flushes the toilet. I go behind him and do it. He soils his clothing and is unaware of it until I get out clean clothes and make him change into them. He goes to the kitchen at night for a coke or some ice cream and things turn up in the craziest places. For example: BBQ sauce in the dishwasher and dish soap in the microwave.

Day before yesterday, I opened the seat of his walker. The following is a list of the contents: 2 empty coke cans, 1 ½ packs of oatmeal cookies (he hides them from the kids even though they all know where they are), a toy airplane still in the pack (Ayla gave it to him for his birthday last Nov.), 3 plastic cups, 1 glass, 2 magazines, a week old newspaper, a flashlight, a spoon and a dirty ice cream bowl. So now, I have to check it frequently to clear the daily debris. I’m guessing he has been putting things in there with the intentions of taking them to the kitchen then promptly forgetting them. “Out of sight, out of mind” is never truer than with someone suffering from Alzheimer’s.

Dad is finding it more difficult to keep up with normal conversations around him. He often complains that everyone talks too fast for him to keep up with. He can’t follow television shows for the same reasons. It seems like his brain is in constant misfire mode and the only thing any of us can do to help is to slow down our speech. He also sleeps an average of about 16 hours a day and is apt to wander around aimlessly at night.

I hate that it is getting harder to reach him as he is slowly drawing into himself. Yesterday, he commented, “I feel like a turtle inside his suitcase (shell). The world keeps passing me by and I don’t even feel like sticking my head out to see what’s happening. Sometimes I wish I could just stay there.” He settled into his chair and reached out a hand for me. I took it as I stood beside him. “I sure wish I knew what God has in mind for me because I can’t see any reason for Him to make me keep living without my bride. Maybe He doesn’t like turtles.” He shook his head sadly, "I wonder why God doesn't like turtles?"
To which there is simply no reply.