After work on Friday I went to see Dad. They had him on one of those lounge chair things so he could lay stretched out. He's been getting frozen into a sitting position from being in a wheelchair so much. They've decided against doing much physical therapy with him because it hurts him and you can't get him to understand why he's being tortured in this way. It's too upsetting for him. Putting him in a lounge chair is a more gentle way of stretching him.
He was in his usual place near the nurses station. He yells and whistles at everyone who walks by. It's not angry yelling, he's just trying to be sociable. I got there just before dinner time so it wasn't long before they wheeled him in. There was a woman sitting in Mr. Hammond's usual place. When they put Dad at the table she said, "Could you please turn him around so I can see his handsome face?" Woo-hoo! Dad's still got it! I positioned him as best I could and she seemed satisfied. We chatted for a little while and then they moved her to a different table. Here comes Mr. Hammond!
They brought Dad his dinner and I managed to get most of it into him. For the first time since Dad moved to this place I got a little weepy being with him. As I fed him I was thinking about the man he used to be. Even though he was hard to love at times, he always was enthusiastic about life. Even though I thought he had some WRONG ideas about how the world should work, he was a very intelligent and talented man. He was also proud and independent. If he could somehow step outside of himself now he'd be horrified to see what he's become. I felt sad for what has been lost.
After Dad was finished eating I got out the uke and song books. At first I sang Christmas songs with him. Mr. Hammond had been quiet until then but now he began to sing along. He said, "Hey, you're pretty good on that thing. You have a beautiful voice." I said, "Thanks, Mr. Hammond. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." We sang some more songs and then I packed up to go. Again, Mr. Hammond complimented me on my singing but he never made any boobie comments. When I left I told him it had been a pleasure being with him. I guess his meds were in balance that night.
It was a good, long visit. Again, the staff kept telling me how much they love him.- "Oh, your dad is such a flirt!" "Oh he's so funny!" "Your dad is my favorite!" Heh! Give the folks at Raincross Village a call and tell them that!
4 comments:
I'm glad you had a good visit with your Dad. I know from experience about the personality changes and lamenting the man who used to be so smart and capable. My dad was a hard nut too- not a real loveable guy but just the same, when you see the changes (and my dad KNEW there was something wrong), and there's nothing you can do about it, it's quite the revelation.
I'm not musically talented; I wonder if my Dad would have liked a little uke?! Your dad's lucky to have you!
Mommala
Your dad is lucky to have you. I'm glad he's on an even keel now. Makes it easier on everybody.
That was Dean.
Anne- I learned in that Physiological Psych class I took last spring that the brain has an area devoted to music. For some reason that area isn't as affected by Alzheimer's or at least it's affected more slowly. Musical ability hangs on longer. Dad is still able to sing and often remembers the words to songs, at least while he's singing them.
I like having the uke because it makes the quality of the visit so much better. There's not much we can just sit and talk about.
Dean- Man, it is so much easier now. I went back and read some old blog posts from last year and the beginning of this year, right after Dad had the stroke. Oh jeez, that was hell. That stroke really made him crazy.
I know I don't have a full picture of what he's like at different times of the day. When I see him it's usually in late afternoon, right before dinner. He's always pretty chipper then. I don't know if he still gets rage crazy when his meds take a dip. When he first moved to this new place he was so doped up I had to wake him up to eat. I haven't seen him like that in a while.
He really doesn't know what's going on but I think he still know us. At least sort of. I don't think he has any concept of the passage of time. That's a blessing, I guess.
Post a Comment