Alzheimer's Disease and observations of a son

January 20, 2012

2012-01-20T08:13:00.000-08:00

We have had our first significant snowfall. Though scant, 2-4 inches of white stuff it looks and feels like winter, finally! I am not a huge fan of winter but it has become such a substantial part of my psyche I think I really need it.

Through the window and into the sun, first snow or 2012

As I sit on the couch waiting for the sanding truck to rumble up the driveway I have been thinking about how my Mom and Dad are evaporating from my life. I have been estranged from my Mom for about 4 years and my Dad is in another world. My wife's parents are also dealing with issues of dementia and things are evolving in that realm as well.

Although my parents are both alive I no longer have the kind of emotional support I had been afforded for so many years. My Mom was mostly a detriment to my creativity and my Dad really never cared to get a grasp on it. Otherwise my parent and son relationship was probably pretty normal. There were times when I didn't see my Dad for a year or more. Something always pulled us back together though, usually a chance encounter at the post office, hardware store or general store.

He instilled his love of tools and fascination for the woods in me. He also influenced my spirituality by sharing his. My mom told me we had no room for a piano and that I couldn't be a writer. Later, she did help and encourage me to get into art school which opened up a whole new dimension of creativity. My Dad would never invest the time into trying to understand my love of art. Though his love was so easy. Go out into the woods, start cutting trees and splitting them into manageable pieces and toss them into the trailer and hopefully drive out of the woods without getting stuck and arrive home smelling like chainsaw exhaust. I got this and really took a liking to it.

There were many times as I was becoming an adult I cut ties with my parents in order to liberate myself from their dogmas. At first it was tenuous as I was a newbie. Initially the pain was terrible as I had to imagine them as dead. I still loved them but realized the hindrance was stagnating. The only way for me to become an entity unto myself was to stand alone, singular. It took me a while to realize that we could co-exist but I had to learn this through experience.

As a parent now, I appreciate my own parents for their efforts and realize how difficult it can be to try to shape our existence into some type of normalcy. I am not a proponent of normalcy, status quo or otherwise trying to be like everyone else, but it is the only way we can become socially adept. Communities are bound by co-dependence, hopefully a mutually satisfactory one.

My family has evolved to such an extent I can easily become awed. My three children are becoming adults. I am exactly between my parents and children. As with most situations I need to adjust, to understand my responsibilities and to offer whatever support I can. And of course the challenge is to encourage the human spirit to flourish and be successful at it. Each person with a different set of circumstances, with different desires and purpose.

January 15, 2012

2012-01-14T21:11:00.000-08:00

Today was cold. Mid teens, I think. 18°F +/-. I walked into Sentry Hill and found my dad asleep on the built in seats next to the windows in the common area. His head falling downward, his body slumped and silhouetted before the large windows looking out toward the glass looking frozen pond. I pulled off my jacket and turned to sit down next to him. He instantly awoke and looked at my face. He said, "Oh, Kev!"

He then, with a smile said, "I, didn't, huh...know, huh."

I was happy to be recognized so quickly. He asked how I got there. I told him in my car and offered him a ride. He readily accepted. We checked out with nurse Judy and I lent my Dad my coat and in no time we were off, cruising Long Sands Beach. My Dad kept saying, " That is a lot of boats, Kev," as we drove along Route One A. The ocean on the right and houses and motels on the left. I said, "Dad! those are motels!"

"No, they are boats," he acknowledged as he watched the houses bathed in crisp winter lights pass by us.

We turned right and headed toward the Nubble Lighthouse. When we got there we stopped and thought about getting out of the car. But when I opened my door and walked around the back of the car and to my Dad's door and opened it I realized it was far to cold and windy. So I reorganized my thoughts and we drove along the coast. At each intersection I asked him for directions and he always indicated a direction that was furthest away from where we had started.

I haven't had my Dad out for a drive in at-least a year, maybe two. I constantly challenged his memory and asked all along the way if he knew where we were, if he knew who lived in that house or where this road would take us. He asked me if I had been at Albert's (my great grandfather who died in the 1940's). I said no and asked if he had. He replied, "Yes, and what a bunch of stuff that happened there."

As we drove along I thought of how he drove me in his car when I was his young son. How we would whistle Amazing Grace in unison and how that I knew then neither of us were tone deaf (in spite of what others told us). On the same roads we were driving now and then, 40 years later. Finally, we came to my driveway. I asked if he would like to drive out to my house. He said yes. So we drove along the half mile ice and snow crusted road that I had first found when I was 10 years old or so looking for a fishing hole. Back then there was no gravel and no pot holes, just a soft bed of rusty pine needles. There was barely a road at all back then. It only the easiest way to walk out here and ghostly impressions of wagon tracks form many years ago.

We pulled up to the front door and I asked my Dad if he would like to try a gun that I had recently acquired. He shook his head in agreement and I asked him to wait in the car as the icy snow had made everything treacherous. I ran into the house and grabbed the gun and ran back out to the still running car. I opened up the box and carefully unlocked the gun. I checked for shells though I knew it wasn't loaded and then passed the gun to my Dad.

He looked like a child at Christmas who had been handed a toy gun. His face lit up and he declared it was real! I said, "It sure is." I asked if he would like to shoot it. He said, "Ah, let me see, why not, Yes."

I took a magazine and loaded 3 rounds into it. I don't know why 3, it seemed like not too many and not too few. I opened my car door and put the gun into my back pocket. I walked around the car and opened his door and released his seat belt. He maneuvered around and pulled himself out of the passenger seat. He stood up on the slippery surface. Once he was comfortable I withdrew the gun from my back pocket. I put in the magazine and told him it was loaded and ready.

I passed him the gun and he held it like it was his own. I told him to shoot at the target that I had placed 15 feet in front of him. He didn't understand. I told him it was the big black circle on the white board. He couldn't recognize it. I asked him to pass me the gun and I would show him. I fired a round into the target and passed it back. He held it again as if he were going to shoot but could not find the target. I suggested he fire into the air. He declined. I fired the remaining rounds into the target and we got back into the warm car. I locked the gun.

As I drove back down the driveway he said he had had a dream last night. In his dream he was holding the gun we were just using and he was in a place that he couldn't quite describe. I asked him if it was at his home. He said no. What about my Aunt's? He said no. I said what about Thompson's Meadow. He said yes. To clarify I asked him, "With my gun?" He said yes. He then asked if I could believe it. I said yes I could.

Gov. LePage and Maine’s Republican Legislature are attempting to eliminate care for people with Alzheimer’s Disease

2011-12-14T09:29:00.000-08:00

Governor Paul LePage and the republican legislature in Maine are making a big effort to cut funding from the Maine Department of Human Services. It is predicted that this would have a huge impact on Alzheimer's patients in Maine, including my Dad. It would eliminate all rooms for Alzheimer's patients that are currently covered by Mainecare.

Here is today's article in the Portland Press Herald
http://www.pressherald.com/news/democrats-take-issue-with-mainecare-figures_2011-12-14.html

October 24, 2011

2011-10-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

It has been such a long time since I last posted to this blog. My Dad's condition is more stable than I recall in the past. When I see him he knows me and remembers parts of the past.

I have been going through my Dad's stuff at his house looking for something. Perhaps a key to the past. I don't know. I have taken a few items that I really don't need. Things that my Dad loved.

As I have been looking though his stuff I keep realizing how my Dad was a keeper of the past. He was infatuated with history and a certain type of object it produces. At first appearance everything is in a state of mayhem. And perhaps, most curious of all are the many empty boxes. Mostly metal and some wood, they are usually at the lowest levels, on the floor. Upon them are stacked more boxes and finally just a pile of objects, seemingly random objects. It is impossible not to anticipate a treasure of some sort down below the stack and inside the box. But as you remove stack upon stack and finally reveal a box top and open the lid so often they are empty of anything except a dull and musty air.

Occasionally there has been an exception. Usually a box full of a certain tool or collectible, like a box or bucket full of screwdrivers or hammers or hatchets or wet-stones or brass door knockers or fishing gear or bullets or thimbles or sockets for a ratchet or wire or drill bits or nails or watches or oar locks bit braces or or what ever he chose to collect from the vast yard sales he attended.

I have been spending much time missing my Dad. As I have sorted through his stuff I often imagine him with me. Saying, Kev, you want that don't you? Take it! Take it! But I don't have a need for the abundance of objects he collected and neither does my sister. This stuff was his passion and fascination. And he sold only on the rarest of occasions, when he thought he was getting top dollar. He made it clear many times that this would by my sister's and my legacy.

I spent enough time with my Dad to know what he would consider valuable. He loved names and dates stamped into a part of a tool. He loved older tools that had hammer marks from tooling. He also loved tools from the industrial revolution. He didn't like plastic, except as a practical matter. He would constantly show up at my place of work with a hook or hammer and pass it to me. He would ask, “Can you read that, Kev?”

As time went on it was unlikely that I could. My eyes certainly haven't improved and the markings seemed to get smaller over the years. Patina was also important. He had learned early on that sanding, buffing, scraping was a no no. But as I have picked up many of his tools I can see where he lightly abraded around the manufacturer’s name and patent dates. This always causes me to raise an eyebrow which turns into a smile.

My Dad coveted most of his collection. Rarely did he give me something out right. And my sister has told me it was the same with her. When I would ask for something in particular it would take on an even greater value to him. I am talking about grinders, chisels, an axe. Not much really. I never had a strong interest in most of his things. I was interested mostly because he was interested.

Some of the tools he collected adapt easily to they type of work I do. Part of my business is making carved signs for homes and businesses. My Dad had a keen eye for chisels. And he did give me a set of superb carving chisels many years ago. And with a few other tools I have incorporated into my collection from his I do take particular pleasure in using something he acquired because he liked it. A hammer, a rasp, a wet-stone somehow makes an immediate connection to my Dad. I find myself holding his tool with more care and easily find content in the many thoughts evoked.

August 15, 2011

2011-08-15T07:36:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I returned from a weekend trip from Westmore, VT. A friend owns a camp on a ridge over looking a glacial lake. The name of the lake is Willoughby. It is long and deep. My friend told me it is over 300 feet deep in parts. I drove up to Vermont alone, through the White Mountain National Forest. I past many places I used to go camping with my family when I was a kid.

The ride through Franconia Notch was especially beautiful. The majesty of the Presidential Range is inspiring. I really wanted to get out of the car and hike up with sketch pad in hand.

On friday (I am writing on Monday) I visited my Dad. As I entered Sentry Hill and found him, he looked at me for a moment and then connected. It is very satisfying for him to get a certain look on his face that signifies he recognizes me. He was sitting alone, in a large room. It was quite hot, 90°s F, but I asked him to go for a walk. He readily agreed. We walked out of the facility and straight into the sun down to Woodbridge Road. We took a left onto Axholme. He recognized where we were by pointing at the trafic at the intersection of Route 1A and trying to speek. He couldn't verbally expound what his thoughts were so I asked, "do you mean if you take a right turn up there you will come to York Village?"

He shook his head, indicating this is what he meant. We both walked forward on the dark pavement, both feeling hotter. I asked if the sun bothered him as a car went slowly past us. He said he didn't think so. We paused at a vegetable patch along the roads edge and he pointed out some cucumbers. We both share a zest for cucumbers and this became apparent to the gardens owner who was sitting on a deck within hearing distance as we saw more cukes and appropiately ooooed and yummmed.

Me and my Dad

Suddenly, my Dad told me he was very hot. I didn't know he would want to take such a long walk and didn't bring any water. He had two shirts on so I helped him take the outer one off. He had a lei around his neck. He didn't know it was on there. I asked why it was there and he had no idea. As we proceeded down Axholme Drive I told him I recently had a birthday and asked him to guess how old I was. He looked at me with sad eyes and told me he didn't have any.... but couldn't finish the sentence. I knew he meant to say money because he always gave me a one hundred dollar bill for my birthday as well as my wife and our 3 children. This day he couldn't even say it. I said,"money!" He smiled and say I don't .....and I said, "have any." He shook his head. I asked for him to try to guess how old I was again. He shook his head as if he was defeated. I said, "20?" He laughed. I said, "30?" He smiled as we walked past Foster's Downeast Clambake and turned the corner onto Route One A.

I then confessed that I was 51. I asked if he remembered being 51. He looked surprised and said no. I asked how old he was and there was some debate. My concern for his safety took precedent walking along a sidewalk with traffic moving hasty. As we neared our turn into Sentry Hill an lady offered us a cold drink from her porch. I declined and we walked up the hill to Victoria Court. A lady from far away called my name. I didn't recognize her immediately. My dad was 20 feet behind me and I was concerned about getting him up the hill. He was walking very slowly.

I showed my Dad the home in which my in laws would soon be moving into. We then turned and walked toward the main doors and I recognized the lady whom called my name. It was Judy, a nurse and she was with Marilyn, a woman who is particularly fond of my Dad. We sat in big overstuffed chairs next to them. We joked with each other and exchange pleasantries. My Dad didn't look at either of them and when I asked if he could see them he said not really. They laughed at this. I asked him if he even knew Marilyn. He replied, "just a little, not very much."

Again they were amused. We all got up, went inside and got something to drink and somehow as a group navigated our way back to Browning, the locked in area, where one needs to remember the code and to punch it in to ingress or egress.

I had a great visit with my Dad. He was alert, happy and really enjoyed taking a walk, I think it was about a mile.

July 21, 2011

2011-07-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

Today, I have lived 51 years. I can't recall the day my Dad turned 50, though I can recall when he turned 40. I was so frightened. Forty seemed like a daunting age to an 8 year old, I thought he would die at anytime. I recall reading life expectancy in the 19th century was 35 early in the century and 47 during the later part.

In the last month I have recovered from what seemed to be Lyme disease. Within a week or less I was bitten by 3 deer tics. Initially I was starving for sleep. I went to my doctors and they did a blood test which came back negative and prescribed me 21 day of doxycycline. I feel so much better now. Although I wasn’t diagnosed with Lyme disease it seems the likely culprit.

Today is hot, 86°F. Quite humid, and very sunny. I am sitting on the deck, beneath an umbrella. Home alone. The only sounds are distant cars and the restless breezes stirring through the pines. It is a perfect summer day. A dog day. The exact kind of day I remember from my childhood. Lazy with boredom I would fall asleep in the living room, maybe on the floor where it was coolest and wake a few hours later. Still, it would be too hot to venture outside into the neighborhood. I never thought about it before but now I wonder what my friends in the neighborhood had been up to. Were they lazy like me, listless and without responsibility? In my mind now I will take pleasure in thinking so.

I ran 3+ miles this morning at Long Sands Beach. At first Sandra and I ran on the sand and then up onto the still cool pavement and headed to the track at York High School. I haven't run since last fall, maybe longer. My leg muscles felt like they were being bitten. My hips and knees ached, but I persevered. I new it would make my next run that much easier. On the track I ran 1 mile. No doubt at a 10 minute pace or more. I didn't feel pretty. On the other hand Sandra looked graceful and full of energy. Her strides on the track were long and poignent. She looked relaxed and fit. As I watched her continuously closing on me I tried to be inspired. But my aches and pains were working counter to my lofty notions. Finally, I stopped in mid track and stretched my aching legs. Wow! it was like a miracle for 100 yards. No pain. But then it came back. And now there was no option other than to accept it. Somehow I managed to run back to our starting point. We sipped coffee on the tailgate as we recovered an marveled at how beautiful the beach was, how vibrant and full of energy things were.

July 8, 2011

2011-07-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

There are some benefits of having a parent debilitated...Father and Daughter grow closer

April 8, 2011

2011-04-08T06:13:00.000-07:00

After not seeing my Dad in over a month I wasn't sure that he would recognize me yesterday. I consider not being recognized as the next step in his disease. When I first entered Sentry Hill he was no place to be found. I asked the nurses if he was in another section or had been taken out by someone. They informed me he was here, someplace. A further search revealed him in someone elses room, alone, asleep in a large stuffed chair in front of two bright sunny windows.

I entered the room and clumsily sat on the bed next to him. He was startled and awoke from his nap. He looked immediately at me and said, "Oh, you made it!"

I asked how he was and he said his back was bothering him. Not hurting, but he could feel it. He also said his brain was rattling. I asked him to clarify what he meant and he said it just rattled. It didn't hurt, it just rattled. His brain is shrinking. It is what happens when a person has Alzheimer's Disease. I didn't know what to tell him.

I asked him if he would like to take a walk around the building. He asked me if it was cold outside. I said we would stay inside. He got up using his own strength and we walked down the hall. The usual cadre of fans greeted us down in the corridors, each coaxing a big smile from my father and myself, as well. We came to a mirror and I thought it would be a fun way to get a photo of him and me. I stopped before the mirror and then recalled the mirror had been removed from his room at my sisters request because he had some uneasiness about it. But it was too late to divert his attention. He was standing beside me looking into the mirror.

He said he didn't look...and he struggled for a few moments while I clicked a few pictures and then responded, "Handsome?"

And then I reminded him how he is constantly told how handsome he is. He smiled and agreed. We walked on, past some hustle and bustle, past the front desk located in a large foyer. My Dad told me that he didn't have any money, nothing. He emptied both pockets. They were empty.

I reached in my pocket and offered him a dollar. One dollar was all I had. I put it in his hand and he asked what is this for. I told him in case he needed it. He passed it back to me. I suggested he put it in his pocket but he would not have it. We walked back, the length of the building and passed through the doors with the keypad. Back to his section which is called Browning. All of the sections are named after British poets. I wonder if Browning is named for Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Robert Browning.

Before I left we sat next to each other on a long window seat. It was very quiet. We were in a large room with about 15 others. A movie had just finished playing on the wide screen TV. It was a classic movie, some feel good movie. I could tell only by the static logo projecting on the screen. There was no sound except for two food ladies preparing dinner in a small kitchenette. Through the window behind us the sun warmed our backs. My Dad said, "my brain his rattling."

I looked at him helplessly. I told him I was leaving and he got up after two attempts and followed me to the door. I punched the numbers into the keypad. I hugged him and he hugged back tightly. He told me he loved me. I told him to knock on the door when he heard me knock from the other side. I passed out into the entry, past the keypad, past the solid door. I knocked. He knocked back from the other side immediately. It was like a game. I knocked again and then him again and we repeated this several times. Finally I summoned the courage to turn and walk away, keypad again and through another door. I was outside. My thoughts were full of my Dad.

Memories

2011-03-04T06:51:00.000-08:00

It is inevitable to start sorting through my Dad’s belongings. My sister and I began doing this when we realized that it is our responsibility and it cannot be avoided. It is a very complex task with many gray areas. It is very sad and emotionally taxing.

As with most things there is an opposite side. And that is when we come across something of significance. My Dad was a collector. He spent many years frequenting yard sales and buying out peoples tool collections. So there is a vast amount of objects that he had no connection to other than he just liked them. The objects he didn't like so much ended up in his yard. He is a real Yankee.

Among boxes and stacks of stuff we came across his dog tags. He was in Korea in 1954. He is very proud of his stint in the U.S. Army. He didn’t have to confront the North Koreans as he was there toward the end of the war. He told me his unit was on high alert most of the time. He told me also that it was freezing cold and that if you left your face out of your sleeping bag at night (he slept on the ground) the rats would try to eat your nose. Some hikes were 30 miles on snow packed roads.

Along with other horrors they were often required to drink water from streams from which they could see fecal matter, although they treated it with “tablets.” This made enough of an impression on him that he told me many times during my youth and was a huge deterrent, among others, for me to consider a future in the military.

My Dad now remembers very few things, his name, his children’s name and his U.S. Army serial number. He can recite it on a moments notice. I never really new if he was right, I haven't seen his dog tags since I was a kid. Now that we have found them I too have remembered his serial number and can recite it to him.

At his stage of Alzheimer’s it is amazing to me that of all things he can still remember this. Occasionally he will ask about his truck or if I could take him somewhere. But I don't think he knows there are places to be taken because when I ask where he is quiet, without answer. I find him mostly asleep when I visit now. Head leaned over but always easy to awaken with a nudge.

January 31, 2011

2011-01-31T06:29:00.000-08:00

My dad asked, “How did you find me?”

I replied, “I knew where you were dad, so I just headed in that direction.”

He marveled, like the concept was laden with mystery. His eyes wondered to someplace far away and back to mine and he smiled and said, “Jeepers.”

We took a long walk through the building. Many residents doors were open. Myriad elderly residents were posed in their rooms in wheelchairs before large screen tvs watching black and white movies with Carry Grant or Jimmy Stewart. There was one exception. A woman who may have been 90 was sitting completely motionless in a wheel chair watching an exercise channel. The woman on the screen was 20 something, vivacious, full of enthusiasm and vigor. She was jumping up and down coaching the woman in the wheelchair. "Ok, two more, and one and that's it! Now let's....”

As we passed by the room my Dad held up his hand. He could’t say what he was thinking. I said, “Are your hands still strong dad?”

He said,“Oh yes!”

At the end of each hallway I would bring my dad to the window. At one window I said, “There is my truck, down there, the green one.”

The sun was shining bright outside. The large building cast hard shadows on the massive piles of plowed up snow. I felt sad that this wasn't my father's world, beyond the glass. The world that he had ventured out into for 80 years.

At another window there wasn't much to comment on. We both looked out, expecting more.

We eventually returned to the doors from which we had came with the keypad lock. A nurse or attendant held the door open for us and greeted my dad back. As she held the door open for him he stopped as if there would be a conversation. He re enforced his stance. She said, “Haven, sweetheart, you better follow that young man.”

He said “Oh.”

He followed me back to a large room where I had first found him. We sat on a window seat. Side by side. The slanting shadows, through the windows were behind me.

I told him I loved him and that I was going to leave. As I expected he interpreted this to mean he was coming with me. I hugged him and wished some how I could avoid the pain of tricking him to stay. He followed me to the door, I typed 1998 into the keypad and we watched the green light appear. As I opened the door I told him he had to stay on the inside and I was leaving. He further pushed the door open enough for his passage. Now we were both in the foyer, beyond the keypad.

“Dad, follow me.” I suggested. Returning back inside he followed me over to the nurses station. The nurse asked how she could help us.

I said, “Haven Freeman is as determined to leave as I am.”

She said,“Haven, why don't you come with me?”

As she walked him out into a large sun room in the opposite direction of the keypad door I heard her say, “Yes, your son will be here when we come back.”

As I typed 1998 into the keypad, opened the door and walked out into the sharp bright sunlight the pain followed me just like my shadow.

Would you want to know?

2010-12-18T06:46:00.000-08:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/18/health/18moral.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&hp

The above New York Times article discusses new techniques to discover if you are likely and possibly certain to develop Alzheimer's. It is controversial with most physicians because once they make a diagnosis there is no hope for a cure. Regardless, many people want to know.

Cutting Firewood, Alone

2010-12-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

Above three photos taken by my daughter, Amber

I know I have written about cutting firewood in the past and it's because this activity connects me to my father like none other.

When I was a teen hitchhiking to college I was picked up by a gentleman who enlightened me about the transcendentalists. He especially suggested I read Thoreau. Walden made a huge impact on my life. His name was Bob Chase. He gave me a papermate pen with his name on it which I used for many years to scribe a journal. Finally his name wore completely off the barrel and the pen was tossed into a drawer someplace.

After reading Thoreau's account of his experience at Walden Pond my admiration for nature was reinforced. There was something so practical about living in a tiny hut, washing your floors with a bucket of cold pond water and opening the doors and letting the fresh air cleanse things.

As a teen I spent many many hours in the woods. At first playing army with neighborhood kids and then hunting with my Dad or best buddies. So many afternoons I couldn't wait to jump off the school bus, run into the house, grab a gun and then into the woods in search of partridge, pheasant, rabbit or deer. Hunting held a fascination for me as did the woods. At the time I knew nothing more exciting than to explore an abandoned tote road or game path.

Behind my house were many square miles of large tracts of land. I could walk for miles and never have to cross the same stream in the same place. I did become familiar with the land but never sure where I might see a rabbit or deer or fox.

At the same time my parents installed a wood stove in our cellar. It must have been during the energy crises in the 1970's. My dad had also acquired a woodlot about 3 miles from our home. He had cut an old dump truck down to its chasis and engine. Built a box beneath the steering wheel to sit on and we had a woods rig. It was two wheel drive and very prone to becoming stuck. None the less we drove it up to the woodlot and loaded up a trailer with beech and birch and hauled it home and stacked 4 or 5 cords in the cellar for the winter.

I wasn't always enthusiastic about these excursions. I would have rather watched cartoons or done nothing most of the time. But once we got out there it was fun. My Dad taught me how to use the chainsaw and how not to use the chainsaw. My first vivid experience was when the saw caught on my pant leg just below my knee. The lower part of my jeans fell to the ground. I thought I must have cut into my leg or even cut my leg off as well. I remember waiting for the pain and not wanting to look as I anticipated the worst. I don't think my Dad saw what had happened as he tossed a log in front of me an commanded me to, "cut this one." With still no pain I looked at my leg and to my astonishment there was no cut at all. I went on cutting like nothing had happened.

Armed with chainsaws and a chopped up dump truck spewing carbon monoxide wildly into the envioronment with tire chains isn't exactly as romantic as Thoreau's wood cutter who could cut four chords of wood with an axe and during breaks chickadees would, without incident, land on his head. All the same, cutting wood is such a simple task that it somehow becomes elegant.

My Dad and I mostly have in common our DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid). Other than that and the fact he was my Father we didn't have a lot in common. He loved God, old tools, antiques, his dog, his children and cutting firewood. I have always been terribly curious about God, less so about tools and antiques and have an understanding about cutting firewood. When we got together there was never a dull moment but I could never talk to him about art, music, science, current events or such because of these subjects he was incognizant. And although I could tell him about Thoreau or Emerson, Bach, Faynman, Hubble, Rembrant, Picasso, Dylan Thomas, scripting languages, etc., etc., he found my interests to have no relevance to his own existence.

I was always slightly sad that neither of my parents could appreciate the art that I used to create. But as I have become older I understand that it is not important. People who want to appreciate art will do so, others who may be indifferent understand other things, maybe as a compensation. With my Father, cutting firewood was an artform, which I am grateful to understand.

Without exaggeration cutting firewood came from his soul. It was a straightforward expression of his passion and existence. He passed some of this onto me. I am distracted from pursuing art presently but if I chose an artform, cutting firewood would be high on my list. As I sit here trying to convey this concept I understand how esoteric my thoughts are. Today, as the chainsaw rattled violently in my oily gloves and sawdust sprayed above and below me I felt a connection with my Dad.

I knew if he were here cutting wood with me and not at Sentry Hill he would anticipate my every move and me his. When we cut wood together it was like a synchronized collaboration. In art what you really have in the end is a finished product which may or may not be a representation of the process. In cutting firewood what you have in addition to flat tires, broken blades, burned out spark plugs, ringing ears, plugged carburators, a sore back, ticks and nostrils full of exhaust is a pile, a pile of satisfaction.

November 30, 2010

2010-11-30T05:29:00.000-08:00

http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=the-heart-brain-connection

As a subscriber to Scientific American I recently read the above article from the magazine. This morning I noticed it was posted on the SciAm facebook page so I can easily share it with you.

The article is not completely full of bad news. I was especially interested in the Australian study which found that people who did 20 minutes of exercise a day had 2x enhanced cognitive test result compared with those on the drug Aricept (Donepezil).

My Dad took Aricept and Namenda. Although these drugs facilitate enhanced memory they evidently do nothing to prevent dementia or Alzheimer's Disease. My father has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. In the past year his motor skills have diminished, he less frequently walks on his own (indoor) and I have found him mostly sleeping in a chair in the dining room at Sentry Hill when I visit. He is locked into the Alzheimer's ward by a keypad. If you can't punch in the correct four digits you cannot exit.

Upon arrival for a visit I can wake him by calling his name or tapping his arm. Sometimes he dozes off and sometimes he remains attentive throughout a visit such as yesterday. My sister and I both visited him together. I was greeted by a broad grin which assured me he knew who I was immediately. My sister brought 3 boxes of donuts and provided coffee. She shared them first with my father and then the other residents whom seemed interested. He seemed very happy to be amongst his children.

We were told that the memory enhancing drugs (Aricept and Namenda) would run their course and he would have to stop taking them, which he did. There is no hope in site for a cure for Alzheimer's Disease. But the linked article does provide some hope that a healthy heart is a benefit for the brain.

November 10, 2010

2010-11-10T05:44:00.000-08:00

Last night was the last awards night I will attend for the York High School Cross Country Team as a dad. It was a very touching evening. My youngest son Silas followed his brother by running 4 years on the team. After receiving the most valuable runner award he was called the heart of the team by his coaches.

The team has been a huge benefit for my entire family. The coaches have inspired my kids to run and hence it has rubbed of on especially Sandra and I. She has just completed her first full Marathon and second half Marathon. And she attributes it to the influence running has had on her two boys. If you told me 10 years ago we would develop and interest and love for running I couldn't have stretched my imagination that far.

New York Time Article by Sandra Day Oconner

2010-11-08T02:00:00.000-08:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/28/opinion/28oconnor.html?scp=1&sq=the%20age%20of%20alzheimer%E2%80%99s&st=cse

October 5, 2010

2010-10-04T22:13:00.000-07:00

After work this evening I took the 4 wheeler, trailer, chainsaw, hatchet, mall, wedges down into the woods. My son Silas and I dropped some maple trees last winter and it is now time to turn them into firewood. I hauled up 3 loads on Saturday and one tonight. The trees are about 18 inches in diameter. They split ok with a 10 pound maul. My abs are sore. The trailer is quite small though it works quite well with the four wheeler.

As I drove down through and to the other side of the swamp I couldn't help remembering how my dad and I had done this so many times in the past. I loved cutting wood with him. He was such a natural at it. He cut firewood like breathing. He continued cutting firewood after he had taken his wood stove out of his house and plugged up the chimney with cement. I asked him why many times, he never had a good answer but always offered me some. Not all, just what I needed.

On Friday my father was admitted to the hospital for lack of going to the bathroom. My sister and I were told that it could be very serious so we both went and stayed with him. He was in a pretty good mood. He recognized me right away and asked about his brother Paul. He wasn't really able to articulate a question but I knew it what his intention. He was released after a few hours and prescribed an array of meds and referrals to specialists were initiated.

September 8, 2010

2010-09-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

This photo was taken on Logging Road in Cape Neddick, Maine. The farmhouse my dad grew up in is just beyond the tree line.

When I walked in he was asleep, this morning. I pulled up a chair and sat right next to him and reflected on my own grief. On the table in front of me was a Saturday Evening Post magazine full of ads for Norman Rockwell paintings. As I flipped through it form beginning to end I wondered who reads this stuff. I couldn't think of anyone I know. His head tilted down, a bit to the left. His crop of white hair still abounding from his cranium like only a few days ago someone fertilized it. He sat slumped among others of his age. I bumped his knee with mine. His head slowly bobbed upward like a wave moving seaweed. He looked away from me at first and then I tapped his arm. Our eyes met. I said, "has it been raining."

As he looked away and out a distant window he said, "yes, for a few days." His head slowly tilted back down and his eyes closed. He didn't have time to realize who I was. I sat for a few more minutes among the bustle of the others. An exercise class was scheduled to start in a few moments, at 10 am and people were beginning to move into position. One resident was gyrating her hips and swaying to music that was coming from her head. I picked myself up from the chair and navigated my way around my dad. He was in a deep sleep. Walking toward the door Justin, the activities director, declared to me he thought they would be taking "him" to the Senior Olympics tomorrow. As I struggled to remember the keypad code I replied, "oh, good."

When I moved through the second door and out into the parking lot I just felt bad. To myself I uttered, "Oh God," six or seven times like a reflex. And like breathing I realized it provided no relief. I got in my truck and drove back to work.

July 19, 2010

2010-07-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

Cone Flower (echinacia purpurea) taken in my garden yesterday

Yesterday was a tough visit with my Dad. Sandra, Amber, Nathaniel and I went to see him in the mid afternoon. We found him in his room. We tried to take him outside to sit near the pond and watch the ducks. The weather was very beautiful, 80°F's with bright blue Maine skies. He could not understand what we were talking about. As we settled down instead in the TV area I asked how he was, was anything new happening, he didn't respond. He has been hard of hearing for years but I realized today he wasn't hearing anything. Finally, when I yelled he acknowledged me.

Alzheimer's Disease is truly tragic. When I first started this blog my intention was to share my experience with others. I am finding it to be a very sad subject to write about. When I think back about my Dad's life I don't see it like this at all, yet this is his life now. A large part of him that I knew so well is now gone. It will never return. The neuron tangle in his brain will never untangle. The shrinkage of his brain will only shrink more.

Eventually he agreed to go outside and we did sit near the pond. My Dad could not stand up by himself. He required our help and when he got on his feet he was unstable. It was doubtful he could remain standing. But he did ambulate himself, precariously.

And we did manage to get him outside, through the doors and onto seats near the pond. The ducks accosted us and then returned to their somber summertime existence. There isn't much conversation to be had with an Alzheimer's patient so far advanced so Sandra and I chatted with each other and my Dad occasionally contributing, "what, hah?"

I will be changing the title of this blog as soon as I can think of something. "Alzheimer's Disease and observations of a Son" is getting old.

July 8, 2010

2010-07-08T11:39:00.000-07:00

The heat of summer has arrived in York, Maine. We have had lots of 90°F weather and not much rain. A customer called from Boston on Tuesday and declared it was 106°F sitting in traffic. Ouch!

My sister called yesterday and told me my Father had fallen out of his bed early in the morning and then fallen while walking around 10 am. He seemed to have no bruises. The staff at Sentry Hill had placed him in a recliner for the day.

I went over to see him around 4pm. And sure enough he was still in the recliner. He was awake and as usual in pretty good spirits. I brought him 2 milk chocolate caramels from our chocolate shop, Divine Chocolate. He ate them with a fervor. It was nice to see him enjoy them. He asked me if I had been over to see Evelyn's grave (his oldest sister). I told him no, but last memorial day he and I and my kids went over to rake and clean up the graveyard. He couldn't remember.

I sat with him quietly as we watched the staff prepare the residents for supper. Most of the residents require assistance to get seated so there is a lot of effort made. The whole endeavor begins around 4pm and lasts until 5pm. Moments before 5 I said goodbye and headed home.

June 18, 2010

2010-06-18T20:02:00.000-07:00

I went to the doctors for a 6 month check up yesterday. My doctor has changed a prescription I tried for 6 months from a generic statin to crestor. My triglycerides have been in the high numbers for a few years and my HDL just won't go up. I have also been prescibed a drug to bring my blood pressure down. My diastolic number is just above 100.

I recall how my parents resisted taking drugs when they were my age. They both eventually succumbed and have no doubt extended their lives.

I know I should do more exercise and eat a bit less. A few years ago I took up running but it didn't make a definite effect on my blood pressure or bring my cholesterol down. Recently I have been taking 3 mile walks two times a week. It really isn't enough though.

Sandra, Amber and I dropped in on my Dad on Sunday. He was sitting next to his lady friend, Marilyn. He told us Karen had just taken them both out to lunch and that he had a lobster roll. He did pretty good to remember. It is apparent that he has a difficult time with it. He knew me right away and remembered Sandra's name. We all 5 went into a function room and sat around a table. I had picked up some caramel creams which I knew he loves and offered him one or two. He and Marilyn both enjoyed them.

My daughter graduated from 8th grade yesterday. It was a big day for her. She bought a special dress and had a manicure, pedicure and a haircut. There was a graduation ceremony at the middle school followed by a dance and then to friends for a party and then to another friends for a sleep over.

May 29, 2010

2010-05-29T06:19:00.001-07:00

Two days ago I went to see my Dad. It was a perfect spring day. Everything outside was green as we walked from Sentry Hill along the paved road to Woodbridge Road and back. On our return we paused and sat in the sun on a bench over looking a one or two acre pond with fountain amidst the shingle style architecture. My Father liked the sun on his face. Although it was in the 70's he was bundled up in two heavy shirts.

My Dad made several attempts to tell me something that was on his mind. He could get the first 2 or 3 words out but then would loose his train of thought. He calls me by name, still. He looks more lost than a few months ago but there is still a person inside his body. A kind and loving person.

Earlier, upon my arrival and before our walk, I met with a lady from the State of Maine who was going to be making recommendations on how the staff would proceed with a relationship my father is having with a female resident. My father and his lady friend have displayed much mutual attraction for each other and have been noticed by the other residents and staff.

The lady from the state really wanted to know if his family consented to his being sexually active with another person. It seems that at certain times they will embrace and kiss each other. My father has also been found in her room in what would be questionable circumstances had he been married, though he is not.

My sister and I both agree that he can do anything he likes as does the guardian of his partner.

The lady from the state told me that although a relationship of such isn't common it happens and when both partners are consenting in her opinion it is wonderful.

After we returned from our walk we went out back to the fenced in courtyard. I left my Dad in a chair in the sun and told him I was leaving to go to work. He was very quiet, I didn't think he heard me. And when I moved closer to make eye contact he said, "Kev, things don't always work out the way you want them to." I realized at so many levels he and I were the same. Both still moving through life, unsure of tomorrow, unable to be liberated from our wants and desires.

April 5, 2010

2010-04-05T06:05:00.000-07:00

Around 7 pm yesterday Sandra, Silas, Amber and myself stopped by Sentry Hill to visit my Dad. We had spent the afternoon in Worcester with Nathaniel. We picked Nathaniel up from Clark University and drove to a park near Worcester Polytech. It was a perfect afternoon, 75°F and sunny. Sandra had made a picnic lunch and this is how we celebrated Easter.

The night before I had a dream with my Father. We were on a wharf or a large deck. There was no day light, maybe moonlight. We were both moving freely to the edge. There was no rail and as we got closer I could see no bottom beyond the edge. My Father seemed to be in the same state of mind that he was 10 years ago. He was lucid, quick to react and in control of his surroundings. Although he was moving very fast toward the edge.

As it appeared he was going to fall over the edge I grabbed him and pulled him back. I held him in my arms and he embraced me. I told him I loved him more than once. I woke up crying. I was sad. My Dad had become very much like a child. I had dreams similar to this when my children were younger. They would take off down a sidewalk, fall off a bridge and in those dreams it took all I had to rescue them. Or I would wake up before I had rescued them. Those dreams always put me on a heightened awareness in the real world and I would be perhaps overly cautious with my kids due to these dreams.

The dream with my Dad was so similar except my children had their whole lives ahead of them and my father is 81 and has a terminal disease. In this dream I had become the protector. But the most significant aspect of the dream was the embrace, the holding on and his mental state.

I had thought about the dream throughout our trip to Worcester and was anxious to get back to York to see my Dad. We found him sitting in a chair in a partial daze. It seems to take a while for him to realize who we are and that we are not strangers. He referred to me as Kev and asked if he could leave with us at the end of our visit. It is heart breaking to tell him he must stay as he is trying to pass through the door with me.

March 15, 2010

2010-03-15T15:54:00.001-07:00

Today is Monday. It has been raining all day and all day yesterday. We have considerable flooding here in the Northeast. I am tired of the rain and anxious to see the sun.

I drove Nathaniel back to Clark University in Worcester, MA this morning. It rained the 2 hour ride down and back. I hydroplaned in a few places.

Last night Nathaniel and I went to visit my Dad at Sentry Hill. Nathaniel didn't really want to go visit him. I didn't insist, though I did tell him that last week I told his grandfather that I would bring Nathaniel by when he came home for spring break. Like myself, Nathaniel felt guilty and we ventured out into the dark windy rainy night to see my Dad.

There is a brook that intersects our driveway and on the way out noticed the water was at the very top of the culverts. This could mean our culverts (2) are on the verge of being washed away. I called Sandra and we parked the other two cars on the opposite side of the brook from the house in case the worst happened.

My father was snoozing very lightly when Nathaniel and I walked in. He was sitting close to a large propane fireplace. It was very warm and comfortable. He recognized us and was happy to see Nathaniel. We took a long walk through the building and up some stairs. We chatted about nothing that seemed important but all enjoyed being together. He had misplaced his senior Olympic medals and we took a look in his room for them. Whereupon we found his new room mate in the room with only the bathroom light on. His name is Francis Raynes. He is from Kittery, he told us Cutts Island.

Francis seemed like a very nice person. He was friendly and had some dementia though not as advanced as my father.

My father also was very pleasant to be with. I am pleased (and proud) that he is so good natured. It is easy to provoke a smile from him. I am very pleased that Nathaniel did go with me. For many years I have had dreams that I didn't visit my grandmother, who lived next door, enough. I would wake up from the dreams which were so realistic and all though she had passed away years ago, I was hopeful that she might still be alive and I could visit her. Or sometimes in the dreams she was alive and I hadn't seen her in 10-20 years. And when I finally do see her she is much older than my recollections but happy to see me, forgiving. Yet I would still be laden with guilt.

I wondered last night if those dreams were to insure I don't let the lack of visiting become an issue with my kids. It is very strange but often I think of my Dad and am content knowing that I love him and he is safe. My need to spend time with him has diminished from over a year ago when he first went into Sentry Hill.

We hung out with my father for an hour and a half and said our goodbyes. As we did an older lady approached us with a walker and asked if she could leave with us. And then she asked us if she were dreaming. I told her I wasn't dreaming so I suspected she wasn't either. Nathaniel and I walked back out into the rainy dark. The stubborn dark night had not given an inch since we had gone inside. Windy, wet, wet. I am not a proponant of so much rain and even less of snow. So I had that to be grateful for, I suppose.

About Red Squirrels

2010-02-23T11:41:00.001-08:00

Uneasy Finality

They come into my yard
and then into my house
tearing and ripping at night.
Awake, I am full of frustration.

They have found some crack
or boards sawn too short
much like an open door.

At day and only occasionally
I sit near the wood-stove
looking out the large picture window
toward the bird-feeder.

One or two will surely arrive.

At first sight of the spastic frenzy
my 22 is in my hand as I open the back door
and sneak out.

Quietly I come within perfect view.
Carefully, I place the red bush within the cross hairs
and pow! The last sound to fall upon
his ears strikes me with uneasy finality.

February 4, 2010

2010-02-04T06:52:00.000-08:00

I haven't seen my Dad since Christmas night. I think about him often, every few hours. On Christmas day, Sandra and the kids and I all went to visit him. We all sat in the big room that is octagonal with a high ceiling and punched a balloon back and forth to each other. My Father is remarkably agile for his age and condition. He dominated with the balloon punching.

I haven't visited with my Dad because I am emotionally exhausted. Driving over to see him is atleast a 2 hour endeavor. It's an 18 minute drive each way. I can never pop in and just say, "Hi Dad, just stopped by to see how your doing, gotta now." Although I have tried this it is just too confusing for him.

There have been so many things going on with the rest of my life I have put visiting him at the end of my list of priorities. I need to spend time with my kids. I was taking a lot of time off from work to visit which I cannot afford. In the evenings when I am at Sentry Hill visiting my father for a few hours I am not at home with my family.

My heart aches no matter which decision I choose.

With my oldest son off at college it has become completely clear that you become severed from your children. Nathaniel's college is an hour and a half ride from home. It is too far to drive for a casual visit. With my other two kids still at home I cherish all the remaining time I have before they too, head off into the world. I feel best after work to go home and look forward to sitting at the dinner table and being in the presence of my wife and kids. The completion of this ritual is usually 7-8pm, too late for me to visit my Dad.

I also enjoy visiting my Dad. The look on his face when he sees me is like no other. I love talking walks with him, reviewing the past and joking around with him.

It has given me a lot of peace to know that he is in a great place. Sentry Hill is very dignified, far and above his expectations and the staff is genuine.

The social worker, Sara, called me a few weeks ago to ask where I have been. I explained to her that although I love my Dad and pray for him often I cannot put as much energy into visiting him as I have in the past. I just don't have it.

My sister emailed me yesterday reminding me that our Dad won't be around long and that he asks where I am all the time.

There have been times in our past that my Father and I haven't seen each other for atleast a year and often months would pass even though we lived about a mile from each other. I think I have seen him more since he has been at Sentry Hill than I have in the past 20+ years. I am really grateful for this. When he was first admitted I had no idea what to expect. I didn't if he would be gone in a month, week or year. He has done very well.

December 7, 2009

2009-12-07T06:27:00.000-08:00

As I was falling asleep last night I prayed for my friend Mike, who recently attempted suicide, again. I prayed for my Dad as well. And as I prayed I recalled how when I got hurt my Dad would say, "I am sorry, Kev."

Maybe I had fallen off my bicycle, or jammed my fingers in the door, or had a splinter lodged in my sole so deep he couldn't pull it out with tweezers. It was always so heart felt and although it wouldn't take the pain away I knew it meant he was there for me. And as I prayed for him last night I knew I couldn't take his pain and suffering away. Rather I prayed that my Dad would know that I am sorry.

November 27, 2009

2009-12-01T18:19:00.001-08:00

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. On Friday, Sandra, Amber and I drove to Clark University to pick up Nathaniel. This Thanksgiving was spent at home with Sandra and my three children and later in the afternoon all 5 of us visited my Dad at Sentry Hill.

For many years we would travel to Gloucester, MA., to the home of my Uncle Michael. He would invite my mother (his sister) et al, my sister et al, sometimes his wife's family and my family to their home. (Since my mother and father are divorced my father was never invited.) Going to Gloucester for thanksgiving was a big part of my children's family experience for which I am very grateful to my Uncle. It was often the only time we would see my Uncle and his family throughout the year. Last year he emailed me and said he wasn't inviting us because they made other plans. And again this year he didn't invite us.

I think his breaking ties with us was due to my maternal families state of disharmony. My mother and sister asserted themselves against my wife, children and myself ultimately threatening to take partial custody of my children. The matter escalated as my sister told my mother many untruths. Without asking me my mother believed my sister. Their threats were probably the most detrimental actions I have endured. Nature provides most creatures and certainly humans an instinct to protect their young and Sandra and I felt very threatened. As we felt in jeopardy as a family by my mother and sister it is impossible to include them in our lives as we previously had. The matter was absurd and caused overwhelming stress.

It is unfortunate for my kids. My mother was the only grandparent they had who would do things with them on an individual basis, although seldom. And my sister the only aunt who took an interest in them as far as family goes. In a perfect world things would be different.

After we had Thanksgiving Dinner all five of us visited my Father. He was happy to see us. Throughout the day I had felt unsettled as I could have brought him to my home for dinner. But I felt it would be safer not to. So we talked with him about things he could remember. My daughter had recently written a paper for her American History class about his serving in the Korean War which put a twinkle in his eye, as well as a few tears. I would dare say he is as proud to be a veteran as anything he has ever done.

I am so grateful to have amazing kids and an amazing wife. My father takes pleasure in spending time with us and I am so glad that I can occasionally bring us all together.

KU6CZR6DHT6W

November 13, 2009

2009-11-13T05:47:00.000-08:00

Last night was fall sports awards night at York High School. My son, Silas, a junior is a top runner on the cross country team. His brother Nathaniel spent 4 years on the team as well as doing winter and spring track. Both of my sons are runners. The program has been a wonderful bonus to their high school experience. I am very grateful to the head Coach, Ted Hutch. He has been coaching cross country at York for 21 years.

York High School celebrated many successes last night. The girls won the state soccer title and the boys golf team also won a state title. The boys and girls cross country team both took second place in the state and Alex Moser has the title of State Champion for class B boys.

I have become the "official paparazzi" for the team. I always bring my camera and take around 200-300 pictures each meet. At the end of the season I organize them into a slideshow along with other photos contributed by other parents. After staying up 3 late nights and on Wednesday til 2 am the slideshow was ready to be seen.

As I drove over to the high school I started thinking about my Dad and wanted to call him. I dialed him on my cell and as I drove we connected. It was around 5:40 and I asked him how his dinner was. He said it was good. I was surprised. I then asked him if anything new was happening. He said no. I began telling him the places I was passing as I was driving. I used the old names. The names of places he knew when he was a kid.

"Marm Freeman's Place, Quimby's, Wheelers Inn, The old York Beach Post Office," and on I went. He acknowledged each place I referred to with one exception but I wasn't sure about that one myself. Eventually, I told him I would let him go and that I loved him and I hope he has good dreams.

I could hear him start to cry on the other end. He said he had a bad dream. He burst into tears and told me again. He cried like a child and there was little I could do but tell him I was sorry and not to think too much about it. He often has mentioned he has dreams with his mother and doesn't find them favorable. He also has nightmares.

As he cried on the other end I told him I would see him tomorrow and take him for a walk. I said goodnight and told him I was sorry. I got out of the truck into the tepid night air at the high school parking lot. I looked up for stars and smelled the decay of fall still lingering.

November 11, 2009

2009-11-11T08:38:00.000-08:00

As I was growing up I remember my Dad spending endless hours playing solitaire on our dining room table. He would loose nearly as often as he would play with a few exceptions here and there, which were always peppered with hurrah's and much glee.

Today I visited my Dad, my sister was there as well. She ate breakfast with him. I arrived at Sentry Hill with my own cup of coffee and declined breakfast. There isn't a lot to talk about. Usually upon arrival I test my Dad's memory to see where he stands in relation to my last visit. This morning he was sadly much less cognitive. He couldn't remember his U.S. Army serial number which he has always been able to recite without any hesitation. This was particularly sad as today is Veteran's Day.

Thinking back to when the 3 of us would spend time playing his favorite card game, kitty whist, I walked down to his room and picked up the pack of playing cards I put in there shortly after his arrival at Sentry Hill. Coming back to the table in the dining area I dealt the cards as if we all knew how to play. As I had forgotten I was hoping either my sister or Dad could remember. My Dad had a tough time picking up the cards, though he made an honest attempt. By reading his face he looked like he was playing. But his hands were at a loss.

We tried kitty whist and then solitaire. At first he was at a total loss as I dealt the cards out directly in front of him. My sister and I assisted him hoping and trying to provoke his memory. He happened to put a few correct combination's down though I wasn't sure if it was just luck.

With our help (cheating) he managed to win.

October 27, 2009

2009-10-27T16:22:00.000-07:00

Today is my Dad's 81st Birthday. My sister and I had dinner with him at Sentry Hill. She picked up fried clams and haddock from the Weathervane and two birthday cakes form somewhere else.

Haven H. Freeman enjoying some fried clams

After we had the fried food I went up stairs to find Jack Lewis and invited him to join us for cake. He came downstairs to Browning with his harmonica. We played a few tunes together while my Dad at cake. We were also joined by a resident whose name is Cedric. He is confined to a wheelchair yet managed to contribute to our musical follies after being coerced by Jack with a bit of yodeling.

Haven and Kevin Freeman

I think my Dad felt like having Jack there took a bit of attention away from him. But it was good for all of us. Jack is a very kind soul. He makes great music and I was delighted to play with him. Jack also pays attention to everyone and is very inquisitive. A marvel for 94 years.

Kevin playing harmonica with Jack Lewis

Before my sister had arrived I took my Dad for a walk around the building. He talked to me about how unhappy he was and how he was getting nowhere. He said no one was helping him. He didn't want to stay at Sentry Hill. As he told me this I couldn't help thinking about how lucky he is. The heat was over 78°F though he said he wasn't warm. The interior and exterior of the premises are charming. The staff is always attentive. And my Dad is unhappy about being there. I think he is serious. I don't know what would make him happy. I really don't know. I take this as some solace as I think no matter where he might be he will be unhappy. At least he is unhappy in an otherwise very nice situation.

Daughter Karen and Haven Freeman

Here is a prayer my Dad taught me when I was a little boy:

O God, Dear Heavenly Father
Please let us thank you for this day,
Especially for Mommy and Daddy and Karen
and Grammy Freeman and Grammy McNamara
and Grandpa Bill.
Please be with all of our friends and neighbors,
and be with all of the sick people
that we do know about and don't,
especially (who ever was in need of prayer due to sickness)
We ask it all in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Happy 81st Birthday Dad, I love You!

October 20, 2009

2009-10-20T14:48:00.001-07:00

This article is quite astute in its insights as experienced by me.

http://www.scientificamerican.com/blog/post.cfm?id=should-advanced-dementia-be-conside-2009-10-14

My dad has constantly complained about pains in his back and abdomen. Some days he says he just doesn't feel good. This, combined with his symptoms of dementia make his journey very undesirable.

Although he has check ups every 4 months his doctor has done little more than listen. The last visit his doctor spent a lot of time listening to my sister and I express a myriad of concerns. Everything would be treated by medications. Either adjusting the dosage or trying a different type of drug.

My father's physical condition has deteriorated rapidly in the last 5 months. Although in the last two months I have seen no evidence of him falling.

October 15, 2009

2009-10-15T06:13:00.000-07:00

My brother in law, Nigel Noton, passed away 1 year ago today. He was 47. He died from a brain tumor. He managed to live about 11 years after he was diagnosed.

His death is surreal to me. My wife wasn't close to him. We saw him at Christmas and occasionally Easter at my wife's parent's house. We also spent a week with him and his family during the summers for about 10 years. My mother and father-in-law would take us all up to Lake Winnipesaukee in NH and once to Bermuda. Their generosity enabled us to spend time together atleast for a short time each year as a family.

As we didn't spend a lot of time together it really doesn't seem like he is gone. Today his wife and kids are meeting my mother and father-in-law for a meal at a restaurant to remember him. They asked my wife if she would like to go and she declined.

October 11, 2009

2009-10-14T08:13:00.000-07:00

Haven H. Freeman in Japan while serving in the Korean Conflict (War), 1954

My daughter is doing a project for social studies and asked for some family photos. I scanned some photos for her and when I got to the photos of my Dad in uniform I recalled how proud he is to have served in the Korean War. He was there in 1954 and has told me things were winding down. He said that although he never saw combat they were always on alert. They slept outside in the winter, washed with cold water and would hike 30 miles with full gear.

Currently, my dad is noticeably worsening weekly if not monthly. He is much more likely to begin a sentence and stop after one or two words. When prompted to finish he has completely forgotten what he started and isn't overly frustrated.

Although there are exceptions such as when he went apple picking last week with some other residents at Sentry Hill. He told me many details about the ride to New Hampshire, the apples he tried and about the "old timer" who owned the orchard, plus two others.

He remembers me when I see him, although a few days ago he initially referred to me as Fred. Fred was his Uncle. He then laughed and said, "I just called you Fred, Kevin."

I never met Fred (Perkins), he was gone long before I was born. In the past 10 years my father has also called me Paul (his brother's name) a few times. It has been rare but one takes notice when they are called by a different name other than their own. He has always corrected himself, so far, when this happens.

After supper on Monday my daughter, Amber and I visited my Dad. He was still eating when we arrived at Sentry Hill. I didn't want to disturb him so Amber and I took a short drive down to York Harbor where she took my camera and took photos of the sunset over the marshes. When we returned he was in the middle of dessert. So we took a seat opposite him but a few tables away. He immediately recognized us. He said, "Oh, Hi Kev."

After he finished he got up and I heard him say to the 3 others at his table that he was getting up to see his son. There was no indication anyone heard him. We took a walk through the building. Recently I have used the elevator rather than the stairs but decided to try the stairs last night. Each flight is about 20 stairs and the first set he did very well on. We walked the lengths of each level and used the stairs on each.

As we walked he told me he got into trouble by telling a lie. He couldn't remember the circumstances but told me it had to do with a woman that I knew. He couldn't tell me if she was old or young, resident or staff. He had embarrassed himself. I told him I had never know him to tell a lie before and asked what kind of lie it was. He couldn't remember any further details.

I did notice the medal he won in the Senior Olympics was not around is neck as it had been on Saturday's visit. I asked him where it was and he said at his house. I looked in his room and couldn't find it. There was a photo on a chair in his room of a baby on a bed, naked. But up in the air, face looking at the camera. It was a large photo, maybe 20 inches across in a very characteristic frame of the turn of the 19th century. It was of Andrew my Dads roomate up until yesterday as he had just passed away and his stuff was being readied to be taken from the room. It may be at his house as he might have asked my sister to take it so no-one would steal it.

It was difficult as usual to leave. After 2 hours I needed to get Amber home and we tried a, "love you dad, give me a hug, goodbye."

As usual it nearly worked but then he asked, "where am I going?"

I told him as usual for the last (and then counted the months off with my fingers,) 10 months you will be staying here tonight. The concept seems so foreign to him.

Last week my sister drove him to his primary care physician's office, I met them there and we all attended his 4 month check up. He slept most of the visit and woke up at the end. He has type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and more. He takes 7-9 pills a day. For the doctor it is all a balancing act. My fathers stomach rumbles almost constantly and he has lost some control of his bowels. It is a concern when I take him out. As a result I have taken him out less than I did a few months ago.

Senior Olympian

2009-09-16T05:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I attended a 6 month meeting at Sentry Hill for my father. My sister and I met with the Social Worker, Head Nurse and Nutritionist. The meeting lasted for about 15 minutes. Among the issues discussed were his recent TIA.

On Friday, September 11 as I was driving to my son Silas' first home cross country which was at York High School I received a call from a nurse at Sentry Hill. She told me they had found my father on his knees in the outdoor courtyard. He was very disoriented and confused. They had already called an ambulance. I switched destinations and arrived at Sentry Hill in time to see him being place in the ambulance and then followed him to York Hospital. They gave him an MRI, xray and ultrasound. We were there for about 3 hours. They released him a decided he didn't have a stroke, rather a TIA.

We returned to Sentry Hill at about 8:30 and were greeted by a nurse who had a huge hug and very kind words for my Dad. She immediately settled him in a attended to his hungry stomach.

The last few times I visited my Dad he had a medal that said "senior olympics." He told me that he paid $200 for it. And then told me he won it and beat 200 people to get it. He was beaming with pride as he showed it off to me. He keeps it in his front pocket and cherishes it. Yesterday at the meeting I found out he did win it at an event Sentry Hill takes its residents to in Sanford, Maine. The social worked told me that he did compete with 200 seniors and won several events.

As my father and I were walking yesterday he asked me what I thought about his medal. I told him I was very proud of him and that as far as I know he is the first Olympian in our family. He grew a very large smile, he was truly impressed with himself. It was very touching.

After I visited my Dad I stopped at the barber shop for a hair cut. I jumped into a seat (no wait). The barber started chatting and asking what I had been up to. She has cut my hair once in the past, so we are barely acquainted. I told her about my Dad at Sentry Hill and she figured out who he was when I told her my name. She exclaimed, "Oh, you are Haven's son!" She told me she used to see him at the York Hospital cafeteria and he always had some sort of old tools to show her. She was very enthusiastic about knowing him and asked me to say "hi" to him for her.

September 12, 2009

2009-09-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

I woke up early this morning (for me), around 5am. Couldn't get back to sleep so I went downstairs on the couch and watched part of a movie on showtime. It was called the The Creator. It was about a mad professor at a research university using cells from his beloved and dis ceased wife to create a clone. He was also extracting eggs from a nympho maniac he had friended for stem cells. He was a much older man and she was 18. They became lovers. At the same time he recruited an assistant who was a student and they began a strong friendship that was uncharacteristic. I don't recommend the movie but it did get me out the door with my camera and down into the woods.

I took lots of pics. I was in an area where my father and I spent lots of time hunting when I was growing up. I also spent lots of time down here with my Aunt Evelyn who owned the property before my Dad and then myself. My kids grew up in these woods and as I walked along there were still artifacts testifying to their long ago prescene. All of these thoughts co-mingled in my brain. It felt euphoric, daunting and lonely.

The late summer is particullary beautiful down there. It is just behind my house. So many memories came back of my Dad and I down there, looking along the river banks for deer tracks.

I let the feelings and emotions swell up. I remembered how I love the smell of applying gun oil on the guns when we returned from hunting. I remembered the smell of chain saw exhaust synonomous with seeing my father. I longed for the multitude of memories that I cherish as I was in this place that we loved to frequent. Where we were nearly always rewarded with the site of a deer. The early morning light was so beautiful.

I sat down on the river bank and began a poem. But was interupted by a huge wave of emotion. I started crying. I sounded more like a damn fool than I could imagine. I tried to stop my pathetic whaling to no avail. I needed a good cry. I did manage to write a bit of a poem. The end was like this.

"I love you Dad"

August 29, 2009

2009-08-29T20:43:00.000-07:00

Nathaniel goes back to Clark University tomorrow for his sophomore year. I took him over to Sentry Hill today, along with Silas for a visit with their grandfather. They don't have the father son connection that I have with my father. They are slightly removed from the desperation my father expresses though when we left today Nathaniel said to me he was sorry a few times for what he had seen.

His Grandfather tried many times to leave the building when we left. He finally said that he could get in the back of the truck. He wants to leave so bad. It is unconscionable that he is held against his wishes. I told him that he could leave if he could figure out how to. He asked for help. He said he just couldn't do it.

It is very painful leave my father. It is very painful to think about him at Sentry Hill. It takes a lot of effort to visit him as he inevitably wants to leave with me. And I certainly cannot blame him. If I was him I would be desperate to leave as well. Although the place is very respectable, clean and well taken care of he is completely stripped of independence. He sits for hours in the confines of his room or the common area. He isn't allowed past the key-padded doors.

It was very strange leaving him today as I really wanted him to be with me and my boys. To be a part of my family unit. Leaving him against his wishes violates my dedication to his individuality. Somehow I am contributing to his longing to leave, to be free to get in his truck and drive, to drive to his home and cut his wood, peruse through his collections of stuff and mostly to feel free to come and go.

August 17, 2009

2009-08-17T07:40:00.000-07:00

I visited my dad yesterday morning and took him for a walk. The morning was very beautiful, bright blue sky, a slight northerly breeze, a truly magnificent summer morning. After about a half mile of walking and as I was about to say how nice the new sidewalk was that we were upon my father's foot caught a pressure treated landscape perimeter abutting the sidewalk (covered with weeds) and fell down, face down into the over run flower garden. I was shocked to see him lying there. He didn't move a muscle for a moment and then slowly got up. He had some blood on his finger tips and his left palm was chewed up my the pavement that took the brunt of his fall. His knee had been scraped.

We walked back to Sentry Hill where a nurse cleaned him up, assessed him and bandaged him.

It was very frightening to see him sprawled out on the ground so suddenly. I had no idea that he was even falling as he was a step or two behind me.

It has become more difficult to take him out for a drive as when he needs to use the bathroom he needs it within minutes. And on walks this has become an issue. He walks much more beleaguered than even a month ago. He sort of limps, right shoulder forward with a bounce. Very uncharacteristic of him as he looks like he could tip over easily. As he did on our walk.

I don't like to think that I shouldn't be taking him for walks. I haven't brought him to my house since our summer party on July 18. After the party he had reached a new level of confusion which lasted for about a week. He was very foggy and more disoriented that previously.

After the nurse had bandaged my father he and I went back outside and filled a couple of cups of cracked corn that I keep in the back of my truck and fed the duck's in the pond adjacent to the Browning Wing at Sentry Hill. The pond is very pretty as are the flowers at the whole facility. It was very hard to tell him I had to take him back inside on such a beautiful day. He didn't understand. And I would have liked to stay much longer.

Sandra had planned an 80th birthday party for her mom in Bedford, NH. So I left him, inside and he was disappointed. It is becoming more difficult to leave as he really wants to go with me and on Friday was very insistent that he was going home as I was leaving. One of the activity personnel pulled him back inside, physically.

August 3, 2009

2009-08-03T11:49:00.001-07:00

Today is my oldest son's birthday, he is 19 years.

I haven't written for a while. Honestly, I am exhausted. The experience of seeing my father, the person I learned to look up to and respect decline so rapidly is beyond comprehension. The experience is surreal. Although I have understood the diagnosis of Alzheimer's disease I do not understand the emotional burden. Most of the time I don't know what to think. I pray. I think of my dad after I have visited and feel completely helpless and horrified for him.

Yesterday he couldn't remember that he was a veteran of the Korean conflict. He did remember his army serial number. And if I questioned him he eventually did remember he went to Korea. He also was seeing things in front of him and kept reaching out to touch it. It looked like he was touching air. And he asked what it was, and then said, "Is that just my eyes."

His hearing seems to be diminishing also. He is nearly helpless except that he can walk. He recognizes me and my daughter and oldest son, atleast he did yesterday.

phewww...I am really overwhelmed and amazed.

July 13, 2009

2009-07-13T06:27:00.000-07:00

Last night we picked up my dad from Sentry Hill and drove down to York Beach for a walk. It was a spectacular evening. We kicked the soccer ball around and got to enjoy how beautiful the Beach is. There was lots of traffic in the Yorks giving one the impression summer is upon us. The cool temps are uncharacteristic of my memories, however. It was in the mid 60's°F with a strong wind. It seemed more like May or June to me.

July 9, 2009

2009-07-09T16:38:00.001-07:00

I took my dad for a mile walk this afternoon. It was absolutely beautiful in the scarceness of our sun as we have had rain, rain, rain. Near our return to Sentry Hill my dad expressed to me how frustrated he was about not being able to go home. He told me he would probably kill himself. I told him that we had to look to god for wisdom. I found some prayers that Theresa had sent him and read them. They weighed heavy on him for a moment and then he quirped, "God isn't proven."

I told him, "To me he is."

He continued that he would rather be dead.

Although he was at a low point he managed to joke with me as we parted and I walked out the door. I said, "Goodbye dad." He said, "Bye." I said, "Bye." He said, "Bye, Bye, Bye." He reopened the door he had just closed and looked at me with a big grin. I laughed and suddenly didn't feel quite as bad.

It's been a few hours since I visited him. After the visit I called my sister and told her how frustrated he was. We have both called him in the last few minutes and the nurse who answered the phone said he was asleep
(7:30pm), she added that they would keep an eye on him tonight.Technorati Tags: Alzheimer's, Sentry Hill, York Harbor, Maine

July 6, 2009

2009-07-06T06:20:00.000-07:00

Here is a link sent to me from my cousin Bill ....http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8132122.stm

Yesterday afternoon (Sunday) Sandra, my kids and myself went hiking around Mt Agamenticus before I went and picked up my Dad from Sentry Hill. We walked around the eastern trails and up the old T-bar. The trails are now grown up with alders and birch and some white pines are starting to take hold. It is hard to believe this is a place where I spent so much time skiing when I was a child in the 1970's.

We picked up my Dad and went to Hannafords Grocery Store in York and picked up some necessary groceries to make dinner. He pushed the shopping cart around the store for us. This was a first. He would occassionly bump ever so slightly into people or their carts and apologize to them and ask that they wouldn't sue him.

My father asked me on Friday if I would take him to his house to spend some time. I could only stay for a short visit so had to tell him I couldn't. He also asked if we could take a long walk in the woods. I had to disappoint him again. But I told him perhaps tomorrow I could.

My Dad has spent his life in the woods. Not the deep woods of Northern Maine but as a person who loves to be in the quite tame woods of York, Maine. As a kid I would help him cut firewood and haul it home in his home made tractor. We would toss it into the cellar, stack it and burn it through the winter. As he got older his woodlot turned into a houselot and he divorced my mom.

Being the day after I didn't mention it to him. I just brought him to my house and started cooking dinner. He seemed very content to sit on the deck until the mosquitoes became unbearable. Then we went inside, set the table and served dinner. Three of my kids, my middle sons girlfriend, Sandra, my Dad and I were present. It was nice being all together.

As the kids get older it becomes much more difficult to have so much family present.

Sometime during dinner someone said the 4th of July fireworks had been postponed until the 5th. We decided to go. After dinner we once again had the strange fortune of having my Dad help clear the table. This is so atypical of him. Sandra and I both wonder how this behavior has entered his brain. He has never offered this in all the years we have had him over for dinner.

Also, the other day out of curiosity I asked him if he likes pizza. When I was a kid he detested the thought, look, smell or suggestion of pizza in any way. It is one thing I can be sure he won't eat. To my surprise his reply was, "I don't know, I have never had it." Hmmm, this made me think that he would actually try it.

Wow! Things seem to change with his thought process. It think he may eventually forget he doesn't like certain things.

Fireworks at Short Sands Beach, York, Maine

There was a very large crowd at York Beach for the fireworks. I don't think I have ever seen so many people there before. It was concerning having my dad with us walking along the streets as we had to park a mile away and walk to Short Sands Beach. It was also apparent he could easily get separated from us.

The fireworks lasted over 20 minutes. It was a very generous display. They were launched from a barge about 300 yards off the shoreline. I couln't help being impressed with the large crowd, organization and huge display of fireworks. He said he felt dizzy and Sandra took his arm as we made our way back through the crowds to our car. We took my Dad back to Sentry Hill just before 11 pm.

Sandra helping my dad navigate through the crowds in York Beach

I had a pretty nice weekend. I feel very sad that I cannot spend more time with Dad though. It is hard knowing he is pining so much time away from his home, his possessions and where his heart is. I do take comfort in knowing that he is well taken care of at Sentry Hill.

The previous evening (Saturday) Sandra and I had the good fortune to take her parents out to dinner to celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary. We took them to a restaurant in Hampton, NH called the Galley Hatch. The food was very good. I had seafood linguine. It was a large plate of linguine, scallops, shrimp, all mixed and surrounded by muscles. It had great eye appeal as well as taste. Sandra and I also split a napoleon, as did her parents. Very scrumptious.

We all had a very nice evening. Sandra's mom has a lot of the same wonderful qualities that I see in Sandra. When we are all together I always feel especially lucky as there are two lovely ladies to admire.

Make sure you check out the above link. I think I will get a cup of coffee :)

6/29/2009

2009-06-29T17:16:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-19T06:28:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-17T15:59:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

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.

May 28, 2009

2009-05-28T04:58:00.001-07:00

Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call from my dad. He pleaded for me to take him home. I told him I could not take him home and leave him by himself. He sounded so desperate. I called his social worker, Sara and told her of his current frustration. She said she would go for a walk with him and try to ease his stress.

I went to visit him around 6 pm. He was in a very good mood and even danced around a bit. He told me right away that he had spoken with Karen, the administrator. He said he told her he wants to go home and she told him that he also needed to talk with his family. He seemed satisfied that he had made progress in his quest to go home. He also said that he had played cards earlier in the day with Sara. He used to love playing cards.

He and I went upstairs and dropped in on Jack Lewis. Jack is an elderly gentleman, artist. He also happens to play the harmonica. Though I have brought harmonicas to play with Jack in the past this time I brought my guitar. All three of us sat and sang and played old hymns. I also added a few songs that were out of Jack's harmonica key of G. They were some old blues songs that he and my father really enjoyed. My father cannot remember all the words to the hymns he has been singing for most of his life but can follow along very well and stay in key.

Jack Lewis

After our little jamboree my father and I went into the closed upstairs dining room and helped ourselves to a cup of tea. We sat and he talked about buying some land from a neighbor. He didn't know what he would do with it but if he could "get something out of it" he would do it. He was so much more content than earlier in the day. I left around 9 pm. As always he thanked me several times for coming over and I thanked him in return for having me.

May 27, 2009

2009-05-27T06:55:00.001-07:00

Memorial Day Weekend is now behind us. I managed to spend most of Saturday and Monday with my father. On Sunday evening Sandra, Nathaniel, Amber and I took him out for an ice cream to a location of his choice. He picked Brown's Old Fashioned Ice Cream near the Nubble Lighthouse in York Beach. The kids size, which we all had was very large. His favorite is butter crunch.

Sandra's mom had an episode on Thursday and we told my father about it while standing in the huge line waiting to order ice cream. She was diagnosed with bleeding in her brain in late winter. She spent some time in the hospital and fortunately made a great recovery. We have come to regard her as a very special lady and my father took the news pretty hard. His body flinched as he listed and then he asked for more details. Sandra told him she was ok, that she had spoken with her and she didn't need to go to the hospital. He was relieved and asked Sandra to tell her he hopes she gets well soon. It was obvious he was very concerned about her.

It is very interesting to me how some things my father remembers completely and somethings he cannot recall but tries to talk about. Often he will not remember that I visited him the previous day according to my sister, but when I return with him to a place he had been a few days earlier he has full recollection. As on Saturday we were working in the garden, he was very content turning the soil over with a spadefork. However he kept looking over at my rototiller parked on the garden's edge as if it were taking a long winter's nap and was ready to wake up. He started asking me why we weren't using it. I told him it wasn't working and he said, "let's fix it."

We towed it from the garden up to the house and began pulling off the starter cord recoil and looked around for some rope to replace the broken one. We found some rope, replaced the broken cord and started pulling. The rope broke immediately.

My sister said she asked him on Sunday what he had done on Saturday and he said nothing. She asked him if he had seen me and he said,"no." Evidently attempting to fix the rototiller had escaped his memory.

On Monday I brought him to our house again and he got right out of the truck and walked up to the rototiller and found I had bought a new cord. He said, "Oh, you got a new one."

He then began to pull on it remembering where we had left off. Bye the way, the tiller still wouldn't start, I think there are carburator issues now.

On Monday my father and I walked to the Memorial Day Parade from Sentry Hill. My son, Silas was drumming in the York High School Band. Unfortunately, the parade was so small and passed so quickly we barely had time to pick him out. It was fun though. My father has gone to the parade for many years. We saw and stood beside some friends of his and to whom he was a bit grumpy with. When they asked him how he had been he said sarcastically, "what do you mean? How do you think I have been?"

This type of response doesn't encourage people to visit with him at Sentry Hill.

....Back to Monday. I walked to the parade with my father and then brought him back to Sentry Hill. He asked if we could go upstairs to see the saw marks or similar on the floor. I had no idea what he was referring to but agreed. We walked up a tall flight of stairs and opened the door into a lobby directly across from a nurses station. The head nurse was standing there and asked my father how he was. She was looking at him intently and asked what was going on with his lips. They were grayish, white. I hadn't noticed.

She sat him down in a chair and took his blood pressure. She said it was 90 over 60. His pulse was 60. I though this was pretty good and then she added that it is very sporadic. She suggested he rest a while. He went on to tell her how much he wanted to go home. That he didn't want to die there. He said he didn't mind dying if he was doing something he wanted to, but why would he want to die there? She was very sympathetic but otherwise wasn't able to help him.

It was very difficult to leave him. I told him I would come back later. The day was beautiful and he asked me if we could go out and look for the ducks in the pond. We went out. We were both very quiet. I knew how badly he wanted to go home. Finally, I said I was going to leave. He walked inside, through the locked doors and into the space so unbeautiful compared to the outdoors we had just left.

I picked him back up around 3:30. We went over to a graveyard where his sister Evelyn is buried. He also intends on being burried here. As it was memorial day I asked Amber and Nathaniel if they would like to come and rake up the graveyard and do some pruning. Although Memorial Day is intended to commemorate fallen soldiers it is also a good time to clean up family graves and reminiss about people my kids never got to know. They agreed and we all spent a bit of time in the woods trimming and tidying up.

Sandra stayed home and cooked dinner for us all. Upon our return home my father ate two baked potates, two ears of corn on the cobb a generous serving of haddock and a piece of apple pie that Sandra baked. We had a nice time with him. And later Sandra said, "I really enjoyed having your dad here."

May 16, 2009

2009-05-16T15:20:00.001-07:00

    My father called me up on Wednesday (May 13) evening and asked me to come and pick him up and take him to a place which he could not describe. I asked him if it was home and he couldn't be sure. I was busy with work and told him I couldn't come over at the time. He became more anxious and pleaded with me.

    I drove over to Sentry Hill not being able to figure out what he was talking about. When I got there he was ready to go and grabbed a photo that my sister had recently taken and framed of him and myself. I asked why he was taking the photo and he said he couldn't leave it there. I began to feel like he thought he was leaving permanently. I reminded him that I couldn't take him home and leave him there and that if we went to his house I would have to bring him back in a short while.

    Still being leery of the situation I agreed to take him for a drive. I asked if he were hungry and he said not really. We drove from Sentry Hill up to the hospital and through the parking lot near the cafeteria that he is very familiar with. I asked him if this is where he has in mind. He said no and asked me to keep on driving and he would show me the way. We drove into the center of York Village and he said go left and then right. We drove for a few miles up Old Post Road and he eventually said we have gone to far. He asked me to turn around and explained how we needed to go back to Woodbridge Road and turn right after about a half mile.

    He had just described directions to Sentry Hill. I did feel relieved that his home wasn't his destination but had never experienced anything so bizarre either. We drove up to the back entrance and I thought I would try driving on to make sure he meant it. When I didn't slow down to make the turn into the parking lot he asked where I was going. I turned in. He didn't waste a second getting out of my truck and into the building.

    He seemed so relieved to be back to where we had just come from. He placed the photo he had taken back on his night table. Technorati Tags: dimentia, strange

May 12, 2009

2009-05-12T19:52:00.001-07:00

I have just talked with my friend who is at the psychiatric hospital in Concord, NH and is praying he doesn't wake up in the morning. I told he I would pray harder that he does wake up. He has been stripped of everything that he may use as a tool to harm himself, including pencils.

I also spoke with my friends wife and his son who are not dealing very well with the situation. My friend, Mike has become much more despondent than when I talked with him on Saturday and Sunday. His family has not talked with a doctor and really have no idea of why the situation is deteriorating. yuk.

His son Matthew said when he went to visit his father today his father was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall, sobbing. An attendant went to get Mike and was told by him that he wasn't in the shape to see anyone. His son sat for over 20 minutes waiting to no avail.

I met with my father's social worker, head nurse, nutritionist and daughter today. For some reason my father wasn't invited. We all thought keeping him in the Browning unit, which is locked, would be the safest thing for him. Although they did offer to allow him to move upstairs into Tennyson which is assisted living. I was quite surprised.

After my sister and I left the meeting we met with my father and told him what had transpired. He was very upset and insisted he couldn't stand being locked up any longer and wanted to go home. At that point I realized he should have been included in the meeting.

Now, we will re explore the possibility of him moving to a section of the building that is not locked and where he will have the opportunity to come and go at will. I do feel it will be dangerous if he wanders off and gets lost but cannot say it is better to break his heart.

Although my dad is still responsible for his actions he has made no attempt to go home. He certainly has told us that is where he would prefer to be.

Mid afternoon, realizing I wouldn't be able to find time to go back over to Sentry Hill for a second time today I called my oldest son Nathaniel and asked him if he could go over and visit his grandfather. He declined saying that he was just out the door going for a run. He said that he would like to go over though and added that he is uncomfortable seeing his grandfather in such a condition.

I am glad he told me this. He also added that he will go see him but today was untimely.

I called my father later in the day, before super. I told him that my sister and I would make an effort to get him into and area of the building where he would be free to come and go outside. He was pleased and asked me to visit him tonight three times. I told him I had to work late and wouldn't have dinner til after seven at which time I would be very tired and didn't think I would be able to. He asked again and said he hoped to see me.

I have though about him a lot today. He is still so very much alive and still wanting and hoping though more often than not is in despair. Some of his brain is faltering and some is still as much in survival mode as ever. I am a huge admirer of his determination and have told him many so many times.Technorati Tags: psychiatric hospital, suicide, nutrionist, Tennyson,

May 12, 2009

2009-05-12T06:37:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I picked up my younger son Silas, who is a sophomore in high school after his track practice at 4:30. We drove from the school over to Sentry Hill to visit my dad. The high school is only a mile or so from Sentry Hill so it is quite convenient to combine a pick-up with a visit.

My son's response to my strategy was, "I will just sit in the car, I can't stand going in there."

I let it go and when we pulled into the parking lot I told him to come along, we would only spend 15 minutes visiting grandpa. He was a bit skeptical but conceded. We found grandpa in his room, sitting quietly in an LL Bean chair he takes much pride in. We coached him up and outside to the pond which is just 100 feet from his door and where 12 ducklings we had seen the previous day were still frolicking with their mother duck. There were other ducks now which had not been there before. My father told us that earlier there were 40 to 100 white birds as well. He could not tell us what kind of birds they were though we named as many white birds as we could think of, all wrong according to him.

We took him back in as dinner was prepared and in the process of being served. My father was disappointed that we were leaving so soon. Silas and I walked him over to his seat in the dining area and gave him a hug and wished him a nice night. After he seated himself and as we started to leave he followed us to the door. Once again he offered a hug. He seemed more disappointed and I asked him if he had prayed lately. He said, "No, he hadn't remembered to."

We coached him out into a hall area between the two doors and all held hands. My father prayed out loud, for God to give make us wiser so we can see his way. And he prayed for god to take care of us. We all said Amen. My father immediately became animated and more alive. I thanked him for the prayer. He asked me 3 times when I would be coming over tomorrow. I told him in the afternoon and he said, "In the morning, then?"

I said, "No dad, in the afternoon. Finally he said, "ok."

He then went back in and Silas and I went out. We got into the truck and headed home.

As we pulled out of the parking lot Silas said, "I really like it when Grandpa is happier."

I said, "Yeah, see what prayers can do."

My sister called a few moments ago here at work and asked if I could come over for a meeting with the social worker and others at Sentry Hill. The meeting is at 10 am. I won't have time today to attend the meeting and visit this afternoon. I know he will be waiting to see me this afternoon. I will leave for the meeting now.

Technorati Tags: prayer, Sentry Hill, ducklings, Alzhiemer's, LL Bean

May 11, 2009

2009-05-11T09:28:00.001-07:00

I have not watched Maria Shriver's documentary on Alzheimer's yet but intend to. You can find it here on www.HBO.com /alzheimers

May 9, 2009

2009-05-09T20:19:00.001-07:00

After not visiting my dad yesterday I knew that he would wonder where I had been. An old friend of mine was committed to a mental health facility, both he and his wife were suicidal. This really took a lot out of me. Also, my son was part of an honors banquet to which both Sandra, my wife and I accompanied him too. As usual, work seems to get the time that is left over from so many other seeming priorities.

This afternoon I was able to visit my father and had a very nice time. Back when he used to go to the York Hospital Cafeteria daily he befriended a very nice lady and her 92 year old dad. She has called several times and made arrangements for either my sister or myself to meet them at the cafeteria with my father for dinner. He very much looks forward to it.

Tonight the arrangements had been made and we met them just after 5:30. After dinner they had found out we had walked over to the hospital and offered us a ride back to Sentry Hill. We accepted and were able to give them a quick tour of the facility.

The early night sky was very beautiful. The flowering trees seemed to be on fire. The lush green grass was pushing upwards in a hurry and was in need of a trim. There is a pond just below my father's unit and there was a mother duck and 12 baby ducklings paddling about and then sauntering about in the bushes. They were a lovely site and a true confirmation spring has finally arrived.My father, Haven with his friends Frank (center) and Theresa (right)

After the my dad's guests left we sat in a large octagonal room. I showed him some photos I had taken on my camera's monitor and then we were interrupted by one of the staff. My father clearly did not like it and was quite rude. The lady was very nice to him but he just wouldn't reciprocate. He can be like this, I don't know why.

Before dinner we had walked up through town and found our way to the town hall porch. There was a very nice bench on it and we sat down. My father was very concerned we would be late for dinner with his friends. We were an hour early and I suggested we walk behind the town hall and into the First Parish graveyard to look for his grandfathers headstone.

He pointed us to the right direction. Although as we got closer he started to walk off into a bushy thicket. I asked where he was going and he said the grave was that way. I said no, follow me and based on his previous directions we were able to find the headstone. It was inscribed with FREEMAN...JOHN W. FREEMAN, RALPH FREEMAN and his wife ABBIE FREEMAN

I had never seen this headstone before. John Wesley was my great grandfather. My grandfather and grandmother are also in this cemetery and we both began looking for them. I kind of knew where they were but couldn't find them. My father was anxious not be late so we abandoned the graveyard and headed for the hospital cafeteria.

May 7, 2009

2009-05-07T06:21:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was very busy. I left for Worcester, MA at 7:30am to pick up my oldest son at Clark University where he just completed his freshman year. My wifes parents met me there and after we packed him up we walked around the campus. This was his grandparents first visit to the campus. The grounds looked especially nice with the flowering trees speckled against the brick buildings.

After driving home I got to work around 1:30 and worked til 6:30pm on a website that I had made good progress on. Then I jumped in my truck and drove over to Sentry Hill to visit my dad.

When I walked into the common area I was approached by one of the kitchen staff and was told my father offered her $5 to take him outside.

I found him in his room with the door closed. I knocked and he said, "who is it."

I said, "Kevin." I pushed the door open and walked in. He had been lying on his bed. I sat in a chair and asked how he was. He looked pretty good and didn't complain. I asked if he would like to take a walk or go for a ride. He said he had no preference so we walked.

We took a nice walk, probably just under 2 miles, up York Street and through the center of town and returned via Woodbridge Road. He was very lucid and insistent that I explain what had been told to me by the social worker. I explained that she told me he would be allowed to go out whenever he wanted. He only needed to ask someone and that they did not want him to feel like he had been locked in.

After our meeting with the administrator last week it was decided we would have a meeting with the administrator, head nurse and social worker to discuss the options for my father. It seemed too complicated to get us all together so I had an abreviated meeting with just the social worker over the phone. She said they considered moving my father into another section where there are no locked doors which would allow him to leave anytime.

My sister and I have apprehension about this, as well as the above mentioned staff. We are not certain he would always be able to find his way back and after walking with him in town I am concerned he may not notice an oncoming car. So we decided it would be safest for him to stay in the Browning unit but somehow allow him access to the outside, attended.

Toward the end of our walk my father asked me if we could go up to his house as he wanted to charge a battery for his tractor. I tried to think of other options for charging it, such as have me do it on the way home as I live a mile from his home. But he persisted and we drove up to his house. It was around 9pm when we pulled into his darkened driveway. He asked me if we were at Bud's house as he didn't recognize where we were. I told him this was his home, we got out and everything became familiar to him. He checked the heating oil level, started his truck up, opened his front door and we walked in finding everything just as he left it.

He perused through his many most cherished items making sure they were there and finding many other things that interested him. He was proud of the fact that he knew where most of the items had come from, from whom he purchased them from or some seemingly otherwise unimportant fact.

He excitedly said, "I don't know how I remember all this stuff Kev, I just do!"

He asked me to confirm his reason for excitement which I did as I wondered how he was able to retain so much info when yesterday my sister told me he was clueless about where he was, people and even food.

Yesterday has probably been his worst day. She said he was very despondent. I planned on visiting him with my middle son but when I picked him up at school he told me he was feeling like he may have the flue. So I decided not to visit my dad.

April 29, 2009

2009-04-29T15:21:00.001-07:00

I picked my father up at about 11:45 today. We drove over to Lobster Cove Restaurant on Long Sands Beach. When we walked in it was apparent that he was a familiar face to the staff. When the first waitress said hi to him he asked her how she knew him. She said he came in often. He had no clue. We went upstairs where there are spectacular views of the Atlantic Ocean through very large windows. The light was crisp and clear and the ocean was deep hues of blue. We both ordered Haddock sandwiches and he started talking about a woman he knew when he was 18. She lived one summer near Chases Garage in York Beach and she worked at Garfields Store. He said he would like to find her. I asked her name and he couldn't remember.

He said her father was a police officer from Massachusetts and that as far as he knew she spent one summer in York Beach. As the haddock sandwiches, french fries and cole slaw disappeared from our plates he reminisced about the people he had worked for when he was young. He pointed out the window and to the rocks that were placed between the beach and the road as a buffer and said he had driven the dump truck that carried most of those rocks. He said the company that contracted the job was from Augusta and it took about a year. Perhaps around 1949. He also talked about being in Korea and the harrowing boat trip accoss the Pacific and how the boat cracked in half and had to be repaired in transit. He said there was lots of dancing on the ship, no women. But he added, "there were some great dancers."

He asked me if we could have more to eat. I assumed he was talking about desert. I asked him how his sugar level was and he told me 175. He said he wasn't sure though, inferring he may be wrong and hoping I would think it may be lower. We asked the waitress if she had anything sugar free and she said no and added that she was sorry. We left and drove out the Fox's Restuaruant at the Nubble Lighthouse as they have an ice cream window. There was a large sign in the window that said opening May 1.

No luck there so we perused back to Long Sands and stopped at the Long Sands General Store where they had sugar free coffee ice cream. He got a sugar cone with a bit of ice cream. He didn't let the server put much in the cone and she charged us only $1. The price I paid for mine was $2.50. We went out and sat in the sun heated warm truck and I let time stand still for a moment. Sitting there with my dad, just like I was a kid again, eating ice cream with nothing much to do. Only this time I was making the rules and he never contested.

He then asked if we could drop in on some friends and I had to tell him I needed very much to get back to work. I had been gone two hours and felt very anxious. I drove him back to Sentry Hill and walked him to the door. He gave me two hugs and thanked me several times. I thanked him for going with me and left him in the doorway, still open and closing.

Yesterday was my middle child and son's 16 birthday. I told my father but he didn't really acknowledge it. Only a few years ago he would greet us on birthday's and Christmas with $100 dollar bills. Those days are past. The days of him driving into our yard, pushing the front door open without knocking and saying, "hello, anyone here?"

April 28, 2009

2009-04-28T09:04:00.001-07:00

Here is an interesting link on brain games from Scientific American

April 27, 2009

2009-04-27T15:27:00.001-07:00

Today has been uplifting. My sister and I took my father to his attorney to find out if he is somehow legally bound to have 24 hour care. Not that we would want him to be on his own, at his house. Rather he has been insistent that he finds out who has authority to keep him locked up and challenge them.

After he was released from the hospital in January 2009 he was sent to Sentry Hill with a note indicating he required 24 hour care. We didn't know who could make such decisions and who could challenge them or what the decision was based on, his mental or physical condition.

My fathers attorney told us that typically a family doctor will decide this or it could be others. And once this recommendation was made it would have to be the attorney general who would rescind it. Additionally, if my father were to move back home and someone saw him in a situation that they thought may be neglectful the Attorney General's office would assign him a guardian. We don't think my father would be safe living on his own. Though we both are appreciative my father is so close by my father begs to differ. We left the attorney's office with not much encouraging information, sadly.

After the meeting I offered to take my dad out for coffee so he and I drove a mile up the street to the York Hospital Cafeteria. As we sat drinking coffee and he ate a doughnut, many times he told me he wanted to go to talk to the person who was above the social worker at Sentry Hill. I needed to get to work and told him I didn't think we would get very far and really didn't know what to ask. He was insistent, so we left the hospital and returned to Sentry Hill.

We entered the building and walked down the hallway and to the business offices. We found the administrator right away and she was very interested to hear what my father needed to express. She asked him what was on his mind and although he deferred to me initially I told him to give it a go and he did a remarkable job at expressing how frustrated he was with being locked in. She listened very attentively and asked him if he moved to a section where he would not be locked in, if after he left that he would always return. He said yes, and explained he was very trustworthy and added that she was causing him great distress by keeping him locked up. She felt his anguish and seemed very sympathetic.

She made no promises to him but said she would talk with the social worker and the head nurse and get a consensus. He pressed her a bit to find out when they would decide and she gave him the impression that perhaps tomorrow.

I was very proud of my father. The way I am when one of my kids do something spectacular. He had lots of determination and focus and really made a difference for himself. He demonstrated that he had intelligence and lots of common sense.

It has been difficult to know that he has been locked up. The people he is with in the Alzheimer's unit seem to be at a more advanced stage of the disease. Also, these are not people he would choose to be with, he has no history with them. It is not like they are friends or even acquaintances. He does seem to partake in some of the activities they offer like singing and throwing a ball but when I have taken him to his house he is vastly more stimulated.

I am hopeful that he will get a chance to go outside on these lovely spring days and feel a bit of freedom once again in this stage of his life.

April 22, 2009

2009-04-22T09:23:00.001-07:00

Dad called me up last night and asked if I would come over in the morning to talk to the social worker and her boss. He counted on his fingers Jan, Feb, March, April yesterday when we were eating lunch in the York Hospital cafeteria and said, "they told me I could go home in 3 months."

He landed at Sentry Hill in January because he fell in the night when trying to go into his bathroom at home. He tripped over a box and broke some ribs. I took him to the hospital and they discovered he should not go back home alone.

So this morning I drove over to see him only to discover a friend of my sister's had taken him out to breakfast. So I missed seeing him and don't think I can get back today. I called the social worker a few moments ago and asked her to talk to him as I know he is waiting to go home. The three months he was promised have passed.

I found this website that describes what happens the the brain with Alzheimer's Patients. http://www.alz.org/alzheimers_disease_4719.asp

April, 21 2009

2009-04-21T06:33:00.001-07:00

Today is rainy. The first rainy day for a few weeks. I am feeling a bit sad today in regards to my father. Silas and I picked him up on Sunday from Sentry Hill and took him to our house for dinner.

On the way we needed to pick up some juice and milk so we stopped by Hannaford's. When we walked in he lit up and asked, "Kev, do you think we could get some of those things?"

He held his hands in a shape that I immediately knew what he was asking. He loves French Twirls, which we call cream horns. His sugar was higher than desired but I relented and we found them in the bakery section. They came in 4 packs and there were going to be 5 of us, so we had to get 2 packs. He was like a kid and when we got back in the car I told him I was concerned about his sugar and he mischievously replied, "If he were in his truck he would eat them all."

Next we stopped by his house and he seemed so at home. His memory was working as well as I have seen in the last 10 years. He moved around his house knowing where everything was. Then we walked around his yard and he started his truck and then tried to start his tractor. It didn't fire up on the first try and he knew it wouldn't. It had been sitting all winter and the battery was low. He left it alone and said he really wants to get back up here and get things done.

He sits at Sentry Hill with nothing to do all day. Though he does take walks with attendants and occasionally goes out to lunch with others in the passenger van he has been cut off from what he would do if he had a choice. He is not allowed out of the facility on his own.

I thought about this a lot yesterday.

After we left his house we went to my house and had corn chowder. Sandra made it and it was very good. We all enjoyed it and my father and I had two bowls each. Sandra also made some excellent yeast rolls which my father kept complementing her on. He said they were like the ones his mother used to make. When I asked him what it was like at the dinner table when he was a kid he said he didn't know.

Since my father has been at Sentry Hill when he comes to our house for a meal he has been helping to clear off the table. This is very atypical. He never did such a thing when I was younger and do not know what makes him do it now. At Sentry Hill he is served in a dining room and waited on. It's not something he picked up there.

After we finished dinner we had desert, remember the cream horns? They were gone in no time. 300 calories, 260 from fat, ouch!

Eventually my father went into the bathroom. He was in there for longer than Sandra and Silas thought necessary. They both suggested I check on him. I knocked on the door and said, "Dad, are you ok?"

He said, "Kev, get me out of here, will you?"

I opened the door and he was standing opposite the door facing a wall looking for the way out. It was eerie and I felt sorry for him in his unknowing. I helped him out and we went back into the kitchen. We sat back down with Sandra at the table and he said, "What is this, is this your living room?" as he looked over at the sink with unwashed dishes, the stove, pots and pans and everything else that says kitchen to me.

I said, "No dad, this is the kitchen."

A few weeks ago we were taking a drive along the ocean near the Cape Neddick Lighthouse. We were talking about people we hadn't seen in a while and he said there was a girl he would like to see. He couldn't remember her name but he knew her years ago. She was from another state. I asked which one and we decided it was Massachusettes. Then he said she was from Gloucester and then Rockport. He said he would like to talk to her sometime. He said he used to go out with her when he was younger. He was talking about my mom. They have been divorced for 25 or so years.

April 16, 2009

2009-04-16T15:30:00.001-07:00

My dad and I took a nice long walk this morning. Although it was 45°F and sunny when the wind blew it was cold. Otherwise it was spring like. We walked up through the center of York Village and my father pointed out a bronze monument memorializing veterans from the Korean Conflict. He was particularly proud to find his name which he knew was there. From there he asked if we could go into the town hall. He said hi to the girls in the clerks office and then walked into the Code Enforcement Office and talked to Tim. He asked him about a growth permit and building permit and when they would expire.

From there we walked back to Sentry Hill. When I am with my father it is apparent that in many ways time has stopped for him. Not only is he retired but his dementia enables him to be even more in the moment. This is quite painful for me as I need to tell him that I have to leave him and go back to work. He always seems to be taken by surprise. In a way I cross over the gauge of time when I am with him. Things are about him, mostly. And I enter into his realm of reality like a runner becomes the road. It is a comfortable place but only temporary. It is peaceful and I wouldn't mind being in that space more.

After our walk we went into the upstairs dining room and served ourselves a cup of tea. Sentry Hill is quite elegant and grand, especially upstairs. And as I sat amid this modest opulence I kept wondering how my father ever came to be here.

We finally went down stairs I gave my dad a hug and told him I would call him later this evening.

April 15, 2009

2009-04-15T16:29:00.001-07:00

7 pm

I stopped by Sentry Hill today to take my dad for a walk. I needed one as much as he. When I arrived at 3:30 I was told he had already been out for a walk with Sarah, the social worker. He had also been on a long drive down to Rye, NH.

There were a few errands I needed to do so I asked him if he would like to come along. We stopped by an insurance company for which I needed to pick up a check for some recent work I had done for them. My father had used them for insurance since I can remember. One of the ladies in the office had asked me a month ago to bring him by when possible. So we both went in together. He was warmly greeted with a hug. There was much affection and even some flirting.

Next we went to the bank where the girls are particularly fond of him. Today was quiet though. Not sure why. I made my deposit and we left. We then went up stairs to where happens to be his attorney and we re scheduled an appointment.

When we got into the car to leave the bank/attorney office my father asked me if I thought it was fair. He meant that he is restricted from any freedom at Sentry Hill and even that he is there. I told him no. I thought is was bad as he cannot go for walks on his own and is restricted from doing all the things that were important to him only 4 months ago.

Sadly, he was frustrated and asked what would happen if he told them he was going to kill himself. I told him they may move him to another facility that deals with only suicidal people, which would be far worse.

We drove back to Sentry Hill and I asked him if he had been praying and he said no. We held hands in my truck and he said a prayer that was very heart felt. I told him that no matter what, if he stayed in control of what he could, that no person could take his ability to find joy occasionally and happiness.

April 1, 2009

2009-04-01T17:09:00.001-07:00

It's 8 pm and I am just finishing up work for the day.

I took my father out to lunch today. We went to the York Hospital cafeteria. We arrived at noon and it was very busy. He was very frustrated at being at Sentry Hill. His freedoms have been taken and he is very aware of it. He has lost his license and he is required to stay behind locked doors, protected with a keypad lock.

After we returned to Sentry Hill from lunch we took a walk to Woodbridge road which is approximately 3/4 miles. I asked him to lead the way and he did no with no problem. After we said goodbye to each other I went up to see the social worker. Her name is Sarah. I asked her if there were any way she knew of for my father to get some of his freedom back, such as taking a walk on his own. I explained that I had just taken a walk with him and he guided us both to and from with no problem.

Sarah said that the facility cannot take the risk as they would be responsible if anything happened. I agree with her though feel very bad for my father. I think there is a chance that he would do fine on his own, though I would not want to be responsible if he got lost. We both tried to think of other activities an 80 year old man who is in very good physical shape could do. There was anything really.

Added to his feeling like a prisoner he is confined with others who are in far worse mental and physical condition. There is no-one that I can see with whom he can become friendly. So here is my dad, 80, confined to a room with people he would never have picked to be with.

Technorati Tags: alzheimers, father, prisoner

3/38/2009

2009-03-28T18:33:00.001-07:00

I went to visit my father this afternoon around 3:30pm. He was sitting near the door waiting with a paper in hand that had my sister Karen's and my phone number on it. He was very frustrated as he wanted to call us and said the nurses made him dial a nine first. To dial the phone number as written is a challange for him..to add a nine was impossible. Evidently the nurses weren't helping him and he said he would die if this kept up.

I suggested that we leave, go for a ride and he quickly agreed. As we were departing a lady who was also leaving and had been sitting next to a different resident said she would like to tell me that the nurses weren't helpful to my father and she felt like he wasn't getting respect. She added that he had been very frustrated. It was sad to see him in such a state of despair.

I drove us along the beach and up to Ogunquit and finally up the backway to his home. We stopped in and walked around his yard. He asked me if the truck in the driveway was his. I told him yes it was and a nice one at that. After we left his house we stopped by the chocolate shop where my wife Sandra was working. He was very happy to see her, she gave him a shortbread cocoa cookie which he liked very much. We then left and I drove him back to Sentry Hill where my sister was waiting and they drove off to York Hospital for dinner. They had arranged to meet a lady friend of my dad's and her 98 year old dad for dinner.

3/27/2009

2009-03-27T15:21:00.000-07:00

Exhaustion is setting in. Sandra and I returned home last night from Worcester at midnight. It was raining fairly hard and made driving very difficult. We had dinner with Nathanial at a Chinese restaurant call Nancy Chang's. It was very good. We had lomaine, brown veggie rice, mushroom, snow pea veggies and deep pot shrimp and scallops. The seafood was amazing. Nathaniel (my son) and I both said "WOW" at the same moment, he biting into a shrimp and me into a scallop.

He has told Sandra and I he would like to switch majors from English to Music. At first the idea was pretty horrible. Ever since he was a little kid I tried to imagine him at a professional job making a nice living and not having to endure the stress of a creative live. But, it's ok. It is his destiny and I am in full support of whatever he wants to do with his life. I can try to guide him and give him useful insights but he makes the final decisions.

He is talented in not only music but also drawing, photography, writing, etc. We spent a few hours discussing mostly the cons of becoming a music major and then getting a masters in education and how much this will cost and how little he will get paid. It didn't disuade him. He said there is nothing else he wants to do, nothing.

So I am enthused and encouraged he has such a passion.

3/25/2009 (2)

2009-03-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

9:22 pm

Not very tired but should be. I took my daughter to a 2 hour basketball practice in Portsmouth, NH and managed to sneak in some photography. I got several nice shots of the sun setting over the Mill Pond looking westerly.

I visited my dad at 1:30 today. We went for a 1.5 mile +/- walk. My father saw an old hey wagon on Woodbridge Road and immediately nocked on a neighboring door and he asked if it were for sale. A twenty something gentleman asked us to come inside where father found out he knew the owners mother and that the wagon was not for sale. The weather was great, 40's, not quite cold! Bright and sunny...spring is closer.

We walked back to Sentry Hill via Varrell lane from Woodbridge and passed Rita's house, Rita is my father's second wife. Divorced. Upon return to Sentry Hill we ran into Jack Lewis an artist at Sentry Hill who is 90 years old. He is very interested to paint my father's potrait. After negotiating by himself, with himself he decided he would charge $100 for a protrait or $20 an hour. He added we would not have to pay if it wasn't suitable. We agreed to the terms. Jack and I played a couple of songs on our resptective harmonicas and I managed to get back to work for an hour. Not enough.

3/25/2009

2009-03-25T04:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after work I left the shop at 6:30 to visit my father. When I got to Sentry Hill he was getting ready to go to bed. I stood outside the closed door to his room and could over hear him talking with the aid. She told him to wash his face, his privates, put his t-shirt back on, put his teeth in a cup. He asked her what her name was. She said TD. He asked her last name and she said she didn't have one. That she was like Cher.
"What's that mean," he replied.
She said, "You know the singer?"
He said, "I guess so"
I still hadn't had supper when I heard him ask her for a hug and she said how about a high five. Then the door opened and she walked through. He stood in the doorway in underware and a t-shirt and was startled to see me. Immediately he smiled and said, "Oh, come on in Kev.
My father mostly only talks about himself. We chatted for a while and I offered to let him use my cell phone to call a women friend he has been trying to arrange to have dinner with this weekend. I dialed the numbers for him and he talked to her for about 20 mins. He didn't ask her any questions about herself. Like how was she, what had she been doing, how her 98 year old father was, nothing. I thought it was quite amazing, 20 mins all about Haven.
They had agreed it would be convenient for them to meet on Saturday evening, around 5:30 at York Hospital in the cafeteria. My father will be dependent on either myself or my sister giving him a ride.
I got up from the rocking chair I was sitting in and my father climbed out of bed and put his clothes back on that he had taken off for the day and he walked me out to the door. He thanked me for coming over by saying, "thanks for coming over Kev, even though it was late."

3/24/2009

2009-03-24T15:29:00.001-07:00

Here I go! First, I have been working all day and need to eat something and then visit my Dad and then go home. I am hungry.

My dad is in a Alzheimer's unit in the beautiful coastal town of York, Maine. He is in Sentry Hill. He is a bright man with a bright crop of white hair. He gets lots of attention from lots of people. He has been at Sentry Hill for about 2 months. Although his memory has been suffering for many (mabye 10) years only recently has it been bad enough so that he questions his ability to live alone.

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