October 5, 2010

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

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

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

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

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.