6/29/2009

Rain, rain

If the rain would give way to some sun I think I would feel much better about so much. I haven't seen my dad in 3 days. I have thought about him lots and have prayed for him.

We had him to our house for dinner last week on Father's Day. We had his favorite dinner, Lobsters. When I was a kid he would order 5 for himself. He would eat 5, by himself. He loved and still does love lobsters. We also invited my wife Sandra's parents. My kids were there and it was a very special time.

My father made a comment about a month ago which I have thought of often, recently. My father grew up in the depression. He was born in 1928. His parents owned a farm that I can see just through the window from where I am now writing. They didn't have much cash. My father was a teenager during the great depression. My grandfather used to work on the town roads to pay his property taxes which was customary for many locals.

Growing up I always had the impression that my father resented people who had more education than he had. He was especially leery of people who had gone to college. He had completed 7th grade. He recently told me that at this point his mother told him he didn't need to go to school any longer and that it wouldn't do him any good. My father is a smart man. He is intellectually challenging and had always had keen instinct.

As my oldest son Nathaniel completed his freshman year at Clark University recently, my father has taken more interest than I would have thought. He has been interested in driving to Worcester to see the campus. A few weeks ago after more than one person told my father how smart he is he told me that he thought he might be able to go to college himself. I was very surprised. I was also disappointed for him. He is 80 with dementia. I didn't know how to reply.

After all of those years of resenting people with higher education he now considers it desirable.

I took my dad out to dinner tonight to the York Hospital Cafeteria. He had a cheeseburger, large piece of chocolate cake and a cup of ice cream. After we took a walk around York Village. It was beautiful in the mist. The bells at the First Parish Church clanged out a song that I didn't recognize but would bet was a hymn. As we walked my father continuously asked where we were. As we passed one familiar landmark after another, building after building on streets he has spent a whole life time becoming familiar with. Tonight he was clueless. When I said, "That's the town hall dad."

He said, "If you say so."

After our walk we took a ride through York Harbor and Long Sands Beach. Again he found nothing familiar. He did recognize the ocean and we were both surprised at how high the tide was as the waves were breaking over the sidewalk in places.

Theresa had emailed me a letter to deliver to him. I printed it out when I received it this afternoon. I tucked it in an envelope and drove over to Sentry Hill. When I got there I was excited to give it to him. I had lost it. Not sure how. When he asked what I was looking for I told him a letter from Theresa. He helped me look all through my truck to no avail. He kept asking about it.

I just called him and read it from the email she sent. She added a prayer which was particularly nice. He listened very attentively and was very pleased. I will reprint it and drop it off for him tomorrow.



Technorati Tags: Lobster, First Parish Church, Clark University, Long Sands Beach, Father's Day, Dementia, Great Depression

June 19, 2009

Handsome Factor

Yesterday was much better for me that the previous day. I got a lot accomplished at work which makes visiting my father much easier. When I need to get more done at work and the day is past and I leave to see my dad I feel very confused. Being self employed requires whatever it takes to be in business and leaving before the necessary is accomplished is a compromise, meaning something will come up short. It is also difficult visiting my dad when my kids are home. I truly miss not going home and being with them. And when I am at home I feel like I should visit my dad. I search for a balance but my conscience won't let me feel absolved.

Last night we met Theresa and her dad, Frank at the York Hospital Cafeteria for dinner. It was raining. My father very much looks forward to any opportunity to seeing Theresa and last night was no exception. I couldn't pick him up from Sentry Hill before they served dinner. So I called and spoke with the charge nurse and asked her to prevent my father from eating at the prescribed time of 5pm. She said she would. When I arrived he had a note in his hand with large letters inscribed with a sharpie that said, "Do Not Eat, Kevin Will Be Taking Me Out To Dinner."

As I entered the Browning Wing he was sitting near the door. When he noticed me he held up the paper so I could see it. We both laughed. The other residents were sitting in the dining area and I signed my dad out, hailed a goodbye to the nurses and we walked out into the rain.

After dinner at the hospital we took a drive to Long Sands Beach and up around the Nubble Lighthouse. My dad had asked me before and again last night if we could drop in on some friends he knew on Broadway Avenue. I was tepid but conceded. I really had hoped they wouldn't be home as he pointed to the house. I wasn't sure if we would be greeted friendly or if it was even the right house.

My father jumped out of my truck and up the front steps onto the porch. He pounded on the door and before I knew it the door was opened by an elderly man with a large smile. A female voice started yelling, "Haven, Haven!! Where have you been? My gawd, we haven't seen you in so long! This must be your son, Kevin! Come in, here is a chair.

I could tell we were in good company. The home was very tidy, no TV. The lady (whose name I didn't get) began asking my father a hundred questions. She asked him to sing for her. She looked at me and declared he has a great voice. She informed me that he has always sang for her and promted him to begin. He started singing Amazing Grace. As he was singing she exclaimed how handsome he was. "Haven, she said," gosh, you are such a handsome man!"

Though he know where the notes were his voice waivered slightly. He has been singing this song for over 60 years and he knew it as well as anything. When he finished she told him he has a perfect voice. He seemed surprised. He glanced over at me and we all applauded.

The hostess and my father talked as if they were old friends with her husband, who she referred to as Cappy, contributing occassionally. She asked my father about Sentry Hill and decided that he had to be the most handsome man there. My dad seemed very content to be with these people whom I had never met. The lady asked my dad if he was 80 and he said yes. She then said that her and Cappy had both recently turned 90. I was astounded. They were both in what appeared to be very good physical shape and mentally if they told me they were in their 40's I would have believed.

Our visit last about an hour. I gave them my fathers address and room number and he asked them to visit him at Sentry Hill. As we drove back he told me he had met them at a yard sale they were having about 5 years ago. Since then he had dropped in on them every few months (with the exception of the last 6 months).

Nearly everywhere I take my dad plus at Sentry Hill my father is complimented on his good looks. Friends from the past, strangers, my friends, just come up to him and say,"Haven, you are soooo handsome."

One of my friends approached me in Rite Aid last week and said, "Everytime I see your dad I think wow, that guy is a movie star."

I think this is a blessing for my dad. Although dementia is certainly terrible he gets a lot of attention just from his looks.

June 17, 2009

Very Tough day.

My dad wasn't well. Wasn't happy. Didn't want me to leave him. Wanted to go. Forgetful. Frustrated. It made me sad. We prayed together. I told him I wish there were something I could do. Couldn't think of anything.

I hope tomorrow will be better.

June 11, 2009

This is my dad responding with joy when I visited him a few weeks ago

I wish I could say things are improving with my dad since my last blog entry but they haven't. Infact, right now, I am thinking my poor dad. He seems to have a bit less of his core memory than a few months ago but still surprises me occasionally with things he does remember. Sometimes he remembers peoples names when we drive by their homes in places that I am unfamiliar with. I find this remarkable. But generally he forgets more than he remembers and is constantly starting to say something and after a word or two asks me to help him out. Of course I am clueless. Although his days don't parlay him with new memories. Sadly, he has two or three primary re-occuring streams of thought. So when I try to guess what he is trying to say I stick within these topics.

He refers to his primary frustration most. He wants to go home. He wants to have freedom and doesn't feel it is just that he be kept against his will. Secondly, he asks if I have heard from Theresa. Theresa is a friend of his to whom he holds very dear to his heart. She meets him for dinner every few weeks. Either my sister or I accompany them. Theresa brings her father along who is 98 years old. I consider him to be a true marvoul of human endurance. He is spry, alert and a very caring soul.

And third he often mentions that his ribs hurt. Never enough for him to require medical attention although he informed his doctor about this at routine check ups and has been assured he is fine. This pain could be the result of his fall in January when he broke some ribs.

Most of his conversation revolves around these three topics and I am always happy when something else replaces him mentioning going home. At this point my sister and I are resigned to the idea that he could never survive at his home, alone. He has told us that he won't have 24 hour care if he goes home. So there is no other choice.

I have mentioned to him many times that if he wanted to go home he is free to do so. There is no one individual accountable for him. He is held in captivity due to his inability to leave Sentry Hill, on his own. I told him I would not help him get home but that he could ask someone else or call a cab. The concept is too much for him and he changes the subject. If he called my bluff on this I would be very uncomfortable and would takes steps to be satisfied he was safe.

There aren't many hours that pass when I don't think of him and feel very sorry for him and the ordeal he has been dealt. He is still very kind and thoughtful. When he comes to our house he helps clear the table after dinner and most recently asked if he could empty and take out the trash (as the container was overflowing). I find this a mystery as it is out of character for him.

My dad and I indulge in his all time favorite

confection, a French Twirl or what we call a cream horn.
(375 calories, yikes!)

I am planning on having my dad over for dinner on Father's Day. My wife is inviting her father (and mom) as well. My 3 kids will be home. We are planning a walk on the beach in the morning, some gardening in the afternoon. I am looking forward to the day.