Category Archives: Memories

October 27, 2012 · 6:42 pm

Dad’s tumble down the stairs

Decades before Dad developed dementia and started suffering from falls, he had a tumble down the stairs that I remember fairly clearly. In this case, another “d” word was responsible for Dad’s unsteadiness: drink.

Dad always enjoyed a couple of beers to unwind after his swing shift. There was a period when I was a small child that Dad overindulged. But after that, it was a couple of beers and that was it. I never saw him drunk as I got older, except for this one occasion that led to the fall down the stairs. I was probably a pre-teen at the time. I never did find out what caused the overindulgence that night. Did he have a bad day on the job? Did he get into a fight with Mom?

All I remember was hearing a loud crash and bolting out of bed. Turning on the lights to illuminate the stairwell, I saw Dad’s crumpled form at the bottom, trying to get up and steady himself. Mom came rushing out of their bedroom, and the two of us helped him up the stairs.

At the time, I was mildly disgusted and annoyed at being awaken in the middle of the night because my dad was inebriated. I never remember another incident like this happening.

Not until the dementia happened. Then Mom and I were once again by Dad’s side, supporting him when his body and mind could no longer support him.

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October 26, 2012 · 8:02 pm

“Your mother is driving me crazy”

If you have been following my blog over the past few months (which I greatly appreciate by the way) you know I have been serving as a caregiver for my mother, who was diagnosed with colon cancer. She has made great strides in her recovery. Tomorrow, I’m going home for hopefully a three-week respite until the week of Thanksgiving. I know there are caregivers that never get a respite for years while caring for family members, so I am indeed grateful.

That said, Mom and I are like oil and water. Mom is an extrovert to the extreme; I’m an introvert to the extreme. We were never meant to live together for an extended period of time as adults. I’m a very independent person that, at 38 years old, balks at the idea of my mother telling me what and when to eat, what to wear and how to act. Mom was used to having my Dad to cater to for 40 years, and he was extremely dependent upon her. The man could not have made a cup of coffee for himself. Their relationship was a sign of the times, where the man worked outside of the home, and the woman was the queen of all things domestic.

I know it has been hard for Mom to adjust to losing a great deal of the personal control she had over her domestic life. However, as caregivers know, that doesn’t mean you allow yourself to be bullied. Setting boundaries is a very important step for caregivers, and I have stuck to mine, even if Mom has been displeased with having to deal with her adult daughter versus the little girl that she forever sees in her mind.

So bottom line, neither Mom or I are saints. We get on each other’s nerves, and that’s just the way it is. But through the most difficult of times, I have thought about one of the last sane things Dad said to me, as I was departing from a brief holiday visit a few years ago. I couldn’t wait to get away, back to my life. I told Dad to take care. Dad said, “Your mother is driving me crazy.”

Now, I’m not blaming Dad’s dementia on Mom’s control freak ways. As I said, Dad was very dependent upon Mom, long before the Alzheimer’s set in. But living with my mom these past two months does give me a better appreciation of what Dad experienced. I think Dad was much better at tuning out and letting things just roll of of him than I am.

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October 25, 2012 · 7:59 pm

Holidays without Dad

This is the time of year where families start planning their holiday agendas. Who will go to who’s house on Thanksgiving and Christmas. For me, this time of year only makes me think about how the beginning of the worst period of my life began Thanksgiving week.

Of course, though I’m the ultimate pessimist, even I did not predict that Mom would end up with colon cancer six months after Dad passed. Or that I would have to say farewell to two beloved pets in that time span as well.

So of course I’m thankful that Mom is still around and actually doing quite well. But since Mom and her health has consumed my life since July, I don’t feel that I actually was able to fully process my Dad’s death. Certainly, it’s been a lot for any only child to take, with one parent passing, and one parent narrowly escaping death.

Mom and I have agreed that we will have a non-traditional Thanksgiving. Mom will probably have pasta, and I will have pizza. I remember last year, Dad was already in the hospital for Thanksgiving. I cooked a small traditional meal for myself, worried that at any moment, I could receive that call that he was passing. That first scare came the very next day, on Black Friday, when I was at work trying to help holiday shoppers find the best deals.

For some reason, or perhaps just by chance, Dad kept hanging in there until five days before Christmas. Ironically, Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and one of the last times Dad was reasonably healthy.

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October 24, 2012 · 8:27 pm

Dad’s protest of “60 Minutes”

While going through Dad’s old letters, I came across a mysterious envelope from the TV network CBS. Apparently, way back in 1981, when I was just 7 years old, the news program “60 Minutes” aired a segment called, “Life and Death in an Irish Town.” I found a clip of the segment online. This clip is the followup to the original piece which dates back to 1975.

Dad was extremely sensitive with how the media portrayed Northern Ireland Catholics, and apparently, he took umbrage at this high-profile piece of TV journalism. I assume nowadays, times have changed, and people who shoot off an email criticizing a segment get a canned email response in return. But back then, the Director of Audience Services actually took time to respond to Dad’s concerns, though she pointed out that his critical viewpoint placed him squarely in the minority.

A copy of the response Dad received from CBS following his letter criticizing a segment about Northern Ireland.

I wish I had a copy of his original letter. Dad was a better writer than one might expect, considering he went to work in England at 16, and that’s when his formal education stopped. I believe he did take a few night school courses at a community college in L.A. once he was an adult.

Dad frequently sent off letters to the editor of our local newspapers, so finding this letter doesn’t surprise me, but it’s still an interesting piece to come across. I wonder if Dad was satisfied with the response.

I know he did continue to watch “60 Minutes” over the years.

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October 23, 2012 · 8:30 pm

Dad in the garden

Dad was not a big fan of the outdoors. Mom pointed out recently how he would never sit out on the quiet, peaceful back deck of their condo. He did enjoy going on long walks, but that was about the extent of his connection with nature.

But at the assisted living facility that Dad was at for almost a year, he loved to wander the grounds of the garden. It was safely enclosed to make sure the “Memory Care” residents didn’t wander beyond the walls of the facility, but it also didn’t seem like a prison. I remember Dad taking jerking, stumbling walks around the sidewalk that lined the garden and encircled a gazebo area, where families could “socialize” with their loved ones.

The last photograph of dad and I together, July 2011. We are in the garden that was attached to the memory care unit of the assisted living facility.

Other than one “field trip” it was the only time Dad was able to breathe fresh air, to escape those long, dreary hallways of the locked ward that he was confined to due to his dementia. I’m not sure if he felt better outside or not. Towards the end of his stay there, it was so hard for him to get comfortable. We were never able to fully understand why. I guessed it was because he was so emaciated and the hard metal outdoor chairs hurt his body. At any rate, he could never sit still for long. He would have to fight his mind and body hard just to stand up again, then he would be off on his tottering pace that had me racing to catch up to him and offer him support.

Dad never had a green thumb, but at the end of his life, he learned to appreciate his time in the garden.

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October 22, 2012 · 7:09 pm

A prayer for being blessed

Mom told me she says a prayer each night. It’s the last thing she does before going to sleep. It’s nothing fancy or long-winded. She simply says, “God, thank you for these blessings.”

Mom has said this prayer through much strife, including when she was Dad’s full-time caregiver as he struggled with growing dementia. On those lonely nights, that prayer may have felt hollow, as she listened for Dad getting up in the middle of the night to wander. During those long days and nights, there may have been more bleakness than blessings.

Family caregivers dealing with dementia may often feel alone and hopeless. Having to worry about someone 24/7 doesn’t leave much time for meditation or reflection.

Now Mom is struggling with her own health issues, but she continues her nightly prayer to try to keep things in perspective. For her, each day is a new struggle and a new opportunity.

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October 21, 2012 · 9:16 pm

Sunday phone calls

Back when my life was relatively normal (which seems like a dream but which I obviously took for granted) I would call my parents once a week, on Sunday afternoon. We live thousands of miles apart (me in Georgia, my parents in New Mexico) so in-person visits were rare. But I would faithfully call each Sunday, even though I dreaded the intrusion on my personal time. I worked hard, and treasured my weekend time.

Most of these conversations were all Mom. She was the one with the need to talk, and tell me every minute detail of the week. She was lonely, and needed someone to talk to. Dad was more like me, generally reserved unless he really hit it off with someone.

I remember there were times when Dad was sinking into dementia and Mom would put Dad on the phone. Frankly, I dreaded these talks with Dad. It was clear he was losing his mind from the way he would instantly forget what he was talking about to the random questions he would sometimes ask. The conversations worried me and made me feel guilty for not being there to help out Mom.

This summer to now, Sundays have been very strange. I’ve either been visiting Mom in the hospital or nursing home, or taking care of her at home. I almost miss those Sunday phone conversations that I used to dread.

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October 20, 2012 · 6:56 pm

One of Dad’s last homes gone

It’s been 10 months since Dad’s death. It’s hard to believe so much time has passed, and all of the events concerning my Mom’s health that have taken place since then.

Recently, I walked by what was once the assisted living facility that Dad stayed at oh-so-briefly beginning around this time last year. He was so sick by then that I don’t think he realized how close he was to home. The owner of the facility was not well-liked in town. It was a big struggle for her to get approved to open the 3-bed facility, and she only lasted in town about a year before she had to close.

The window on the right was where Dad’s room was at the assisted living facility.

I visited Dad’s room once there, when he was sick in the hospital across town. The building was kind of run-down and looked like it could have once been a medical office or business of some sort, so it did not have a homey feel to it all. It was chilly and a bit damp. They had ordered him a new bed to prevent bedsores. The owner was trying to find a chair for the room so Dad could sit in it when he returned.

I don’t know if she ever found that chair, or if he ever set in it. He returned back to the facility for a brief few days before he landed back in the hospital, even more ill than before. He then ended up in Albuquerque, where he eventually died.

The space where the assisted living facility used to be is undergoing an extensive renovation. It looks like the insides are being gutted. I don’t know what’s going to replace the facility, but I’ll always remember it as one of Dad’s last homes, no matter how brief his stay was there.

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October 19, 2012 · 6:29 pm

The way he was before

Mom talks about Dad a lot, both before he had Alzheimer’s and when he was suffering from the terrible disease. But her favorite phrase to use when she talks about how much she misses him is, “The way he was before.”

Mom follows it up by saying she could never wish Dad back with dementia. She says it would be too cruel and too selfish.

I agree. It’s always difficult to let go of a loved one, but sometimes death is a release, and should be embraced instead of feared.

No doubt everyone who has ever had a loved one with Alzheimer’s has longed for a return to the way their loved one was before. It’s almost like a new way of indicating time: B.A. and W.A. Before Alzheimer’s and With Alzheimer’s.

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October 18, 2012 · 7:07 pm

Dad’s love of ghost stories

Halloween is in the air. Decorations are everywhere, even in the bank where my Dad once had his accounts.

Dad wasn’t big on the Hallmark version of Halloween. He was never a big fan of candy and he was easily bored with the trick-or-treating and other kid-friendly events that my parents hauled me around to as a kid.

Dad did enjoy a good old-fashioned ghost story. Despite his penchant for vivid nightmares and his own encounter with a violent ghost in a hotel, he enjoyed the spooky adventures told by others. He loved to retell famous ghost stories as well, where he could show off his acting skills that he was never able to develop into a professional career.

To this day, Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I love scary stories and movies, and yes, I have a sweet tooth!

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