Misbehaving to Get Attention

April 9, 2010

On my return trip from visiting my family, I came around the curve before the house. I saw Dad walking down the road toward me. This is really unusual. Like I have said before, he rarely walks farther than taking the trash out anymore. I pulled over next to him and he leaned in the window of the car. He reached his hand out to me. I grasped his hand through the open window. He told me he had really missed me. I asked if he had behaved while I was gone. He hung his head, with a twinkle in his eye, and told me, “not exactly”. He informed me he was taking a walk so I drove on home.
When I arrived at the house, Richard immediately warned me that Dad was having a “bad Alzheimer’s day”. I went up to say hello to Mom (Richard had her out on the back deck enjoying the beautiful afternoon). She greeted me with, “RED FLAG! RED FLAG!” before she released me from our greeting hug. I knew from repeated experience that she was telling me that Dad was having a “BAD DAY”.

Richard and I sat down outside with Mom and began weeding the flowerbeds for Mom. I had been home for over ½ an hour when I asked Richard to go find his Dad. He still hadn’t returned from his walk and I was getting worried. (Giggle) It turned out that he had returned at some point and was inside the house.

We all ended up inside getting ready for dinner soon after we discovered he was home. I had to do the weekly meds so I sat down at the dining room table and got busy. They had to have their evening meds with dinner. While Dad was setting the table I again asked if he had behaved while I was gone. Everyone had already told me he had been really hard to manage at times. He instantly looked contrite and admitted that he might have misbehaved a little bit. When I asked him why, he responded, “Nobody pays attention to me the way you do unless I misbehave. So, I do it to keep them on there toes.”
He came over to give me a big hug and said he would try to do better if it would help me out. Once again, I was reminded that a demented mind is often very childlike. And just as I would with a child, I said with a smile, “You better or the next time you’ll get sent to your room.” He smiled and assured me he would try to do better as he shuffled off to get the silverware he had forgotten on his 4th trip to the dining room.