April 8, 2011

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.

June 19, 2009

Handsome Factor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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