May 16, 2012 · 2:39 pm

A visit to the water park

As the weather heats up outside, I’ve been thinking about those scorching summers as a kid in southern California. I was sensitive to the heat as was my dad, though he was tougher than I was because he worked outside in all kinds of weather conditions! My family did not head to the beach like a lot of families in the area did to cool off. My parents weren’t fans of sunbathing and my pale skin burned within a few minutes of exposure. We usually went to the movie theatre to cool off. One time, I remember us visiting a water park.

It was an odd choice, since I didn’t know how to swim. Neither did Dad, but Mom used to be able to dog paddle back in the day. I remember Dad balking at the cost of admission. I guess having to pay any amount of money to walk around and smoke was an injustice to him! Mom just sat on a bench and watched the action. I was way too scared to get on the giant water slide that you could see towering into the sky as you drove by the place. I settled for the boat ride.

The boats were round contraptions that could hold up to two people, but I was at that age where I didn’t want to be seen with my parents. So I boarded alone, with some help from one of the park attendants. He went through a blistering set of instructions that I only caught 10 percent of, due to the noise of the other riders. I figured it couldn’t be that difficult; there were only a couple of different controls and everyone else seemed to be moving along just fine.

I can’t remember how long we had in the water, I’m guessing 5-10 minutes at most. It seemed like a lifetime to me, because I proceeded to go around in circles the entire time. I watched helplessly as the other riders cruised straight ahead to a lagoon-like area that looped around, while I sat in the middle of the water, spinning around like a top. The attendant tried to shout tips to me but I couldn’t hear him. Finally, I had to be “rescued” as I couldn’t make it back to the dock! I was so humiliated.

Mom had seen part of my odd excursion but I played it off, telling her I intended to stay in the same area the whole time. Pre-teenage pride!

Luckily, Dad had wandered off to smoke and had not seen any of it. I never told him how he wasted his money on my boat ride that went to nowhere.

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May 15, 2012 · 2:59 pm

Dad visit to the lake

There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about a variety of programs that can help improve the quality of life of Alzheimer’s patients, including music, storytelling, games and dolls. I know they offered some kinds of exercise and social programs at the memory care facility Dad was at, but Dad was always the loner type. For example, I can’t imagine him sitting in a circle and batting a ball around, an activity that many dementia patients seem to take great joy in. Sure, Alzheimer’s changes people’s personality, but I could still see Dad’s old self underneath the disease until the very end.

He must have been so bored and lonely, pacing up and down the hallways of the memory care facility, with only my mom’s bi-monthly visits to break up the monotony.

Copyright: New Mexico State Parks Division

But just about four months or so before he died, there was a field trip for the memory care residents. They went to the Bottomless Lakes State Park that’s a short drive from Roswell, NM. It seems like a beautiful, peaceful place. I don’t know how much Dad was able to enjoy it, but it must have been nice to breathe in the fresh air at least. I know that Dad enjoyed car rides once he had dementia so even if he didn’t like the lake, at least he got to be on the road a bit!

I just have to wonder what Dad saw or thought about as he looked over the expanse of beautiful blue water. Did he feel anything at all or had Alzheimer’s taken away his ability to appreciate the simple beauty of nature?

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May 14, 2012 · 2:15 pm

Dad’s sisters come to visit

Another memory mainly before my time was when my aunts from Ireland came to visit us in California. I was two. I have one lone memory of this incident, really just a like a couple of stills from a film. I remember holding someone’s hand and crossing by the pool to the other side of the apartment complex, where my aunts were able to stay in a vacant unit for the time they were visiting. There was a sense of anticipation as we approached the door of the other apartment. I have absolutely no memory of anything else from that time period.

Why this visit sticks out in my mind is because of my mom’s memory of the visit. It was not a happy one.

For whatever reason, Dad’s sisters were not fond of my mom at the time. I don’t know if this was because of natural sisterly protectiveness or an actual dislike. Obviously, Mom was probably not the bride they would have pictured their “darling brother Pat” marrying. She was a farmer’s daughter from Tennessee with a thick southern accent that follows her to this day. Dad was a shy guy from Belfast who had been doted on by his older sisters as a kid.

Mom prides herself on making everyone like her, event difficult people. My two aunts proved to be tough cookies.

Mom tried her best to impress them by cooking for them and basically waiting on them hand and foot, but from mom’s side of the story, they were impossible to please. They didn’t like her cooking, they didn’t like the accommodations and they made it clear that they wanted to spend time with their brother alone. Mom was very hurt by their behavior, but even more so by Dad’s reaction.

He chose to take his sisters side, and not defend Mom.

Mom would tell the story about their visit many times during my childhood, and I could remember actually feeling the pain and humiliation she suffered. I think Dad did eventually apologize to Mom, but she was still bitter. I’m guessing Dad was just trying to keep everyone happy, and being surrounded by all of that estrogen was overwhelming for him!

Over the past year, my mom has reconnected with my dad’s sisters and they have been great about writing letters and talking to us on the phone. A concern for Dad brought us all closer together, making our differences and all of those miles and years apart vanish.

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May 13, 2012 · 1:34 pm

Dad ruins Mom’s first Mother’s Day

With it being Mother’s Day, I was thinking about how my mom told me her first Mother’s Day turned out. It didn’t involve flowers or a nice brunch.

Dad was in the hospital.

Mom spent her first Mother’s Day lugging a cranky baby down the street to Kaiser Permanente hospital, where my dad was recovering from foot surgery. I’ve written before about my dad’s flat feet. At some point, he ended up with a very painful infection and had to have surgery to remedy the problem. He ended up with some post-surgery complications and was in a lot of pain. So Mom spent her first Mother’s Day visiting a loopy Dad, who was on some strong pain meds by then.

Despite the many hospital visits over the last couple of years of Dad’s life, he stayed in pretty good health after he recovered from the foot surgery. There were those occasional ER trips because of his stomach issues, but no inpatient stays until the dementia had taken its toll on his body.

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May 12, 2012 · 2:40 pm

A stop in Alamogordo

The last time I visited my mom and picked up my dad’s cremains, the shuttle made a stop in Alamogordo on the way back to the airport. I had some time to kill and I roamed aimlessly in the hotel lobby, as it was an unusually chilly, blustery day outside. This tourist guide for Alamogordo caught my eye, especially the phrase, “View the Past, Explore the Future.” How appropriate for me to consider at the time.

For most people, if they were to associate anything at all with Alamogordo, they might mention White Sands National Monument or the White Sands Missile Range, as that is the area where the first atomic bomb was tested. The White Sands monument is definitely worth checking out if you are in the area. But for me, Alamogordo will forever remind me of the final place my dad’s body rested in before being cremated.

Since my dad died just five days before Christmas, there was an issue with getting his death certificate signed and he ended up spending five long days in Alamogordo, in a chilly locker awaiting cremation. Of course he wasn’t feeling any part of his cold, antiseptic final home, his spirit had long flown from this earth. I think I’ve mentioned before that my mom was oddly comforted by knowing that dad’s body was at peace in Alamogordo all of those days, just an hour away from her. In fact, just this week she told me she finally has put Dad’s urn on display.

I was vaguely disturbed by the thought of my father’s dead body lingering in this world for all of those days. It just made me think how random and unpredictable life is. Dad never would have thought that his life, which started in Belfast, Northern Ireland would end in Albuquerque and include a post-death stop in Alamogordo. So many miles, so many memories in just one ordinary life.

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May 11, 2012 · 2:37 pm

Dad giving Mom her quiet time

My mom and dad spent a great deal of time together, especially after my dad retired. As with most people, they could end up wearing on each other’s nerves from time to time. As I’ve mentioned previously, Mom always babied Dad a bit. The man was barely allowed in the kitchen, unless it was time to eat. I don’t think Dad (in his right mind) could have made himself a cup of coffee if his life had depended upon it. Mom made all the meals, all the snacks and every cup of coffee that passed Dad’s lips at home. The home was her domain (befitting her Cancer astrology sign) and Dad knew his place in the home.

And I don’t think Dad minded this arrangement one bit. After all, he came from a generation where the woman was the homemaker and stayed at home to raise the children and support the family’s needs.

My mom told me recently that before Dad had dementia, sometimes she would just need some alone time, and gasp, didn’t feel like making dinner. So she would send Dad off and would tell him he was on his own for dinner. He never once complained about being shooed out of the house. He usually ended up at McDonald’s. One time he brought her home a cookie from whatever restaurant he dined at. I’m guessing Dad needed his alone time just as much as Mom did. Of course, once the dementia set in, Mom would have given anything to have another non-eventful meal with that former version of her husband, the easy-going man who she was married to for 40 years.

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May 10, 2012 · 1:15 pm

Dad’s fear of death

I believe I’ve mentioned before on this blog that my dad was afraid of dying. I never really explored the specific reasons why with him, but I do know he was afraid of suffocating and would have terrible nightmares around that theme.

Well, I hope Dad is okay as ashes in a container. I haven’t sealed the lid on my container, just in case he needs some more space!

But on a more serious note, his deep-seated fear of death led to a stony silence about any end-of-life discussions. My mom, ever the optimist, was more than willing to go along with him and pretend that the “d-word” was never going to happen. Sadly, this happens in a lot of families, and it’s usually the children or other relatives that are serving as caregivers that have to deal with the consequences.

I’m not a fan of legislation that tells people what to do, but I almost wish there was a legal requirement for people to indicate their basic end-of-life wishes in writing. Of course, these decisions would no doubt change over time, and the document would have to be updated, which would no doubt be a mess in some situations. Bureaucracy can be a big ugly beast, but the flip side is this void of knowledge, and a desperate family member forced to make life or death decisions for their loved one.

It was excruciating to watch my mom, who was in charge of making my dad’s health decisions, keep avoiding the DNR request, despite pleas from me and the medical staff. I know in her heart she felt she was doing the right thing, by giving Dad every chance possible to “recover.” But as those who have dealt with Alzheimer’s in their families know, that recovery is limited at best.

I say the above even though I’m not entirely sure what Dad would have wanted at the end of his life, if he had been in his right mind. Would he have been as afraid of the DNR order as death itself? Perhaps. Would he have wanted the broken ribs that came with the CPR that was given to him on the day he died? No, of course not, no one would.

I think Dad was most fearful of the unknown that comes with death, despite his religious beliefs. Did Alzheimer’s erase that fear or add to it? I wish I knew.

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May 9, 2012 · 1:48 pm

Dad’s prayer to me

Dad and I had very few one-on-one conversations with each other. My mom usually led the family discussions, and my dad would just kind of hang out in the background. Over the years, he learned to tune out my mom quite effectively! (Mom loves to talk and doesn’t necessarily seek feedback, so that’s why their relationship worked.)

Years ago, before Dad had dementia, I told my parents that I had tested as gluten intolerant and had to go on a gluten-free diet permanently. My mom had a ton of questions, but my dad didn’t have much of a reaction either way. Not a big deal, Mom was the cook of the family.

Years later, when Dad was at the moderate level of dementia, my mom gave me the following prayer request. It had been an extremely difficult day (which I will explain in another post) and my mom pulled this card out of her purse and quietly said, “I thought you would want this.”


It was one of those Catholic prayer request cards. Dad had filled it out, but never mailed it. I’m glad he didn’t. It’s a bit difficult to read, so here’s what it says:

“My daughter Joy who has an eating problem for several years now. She is restricted to a diet where she has to avoid wheat in her food. Under no circumstances can she eat food with wheat in it. Your prayers will be appreciated.”

Wow. I was blown away that Dad had been paying attention all those years ago. My mom and I shared a sad smile across the table as Dad sat next to us, oblivious to the emotions filling the room.

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May 8, 2012 · 1:02 pm

Dad’s love affair with Costa Rica

Dad threatened many times when I was a kid to move the family to Costa Rica. His love for the Central American country was based upon secondhand knowledge and photos and stories from books and magazines. One of his co-workers had traveled to Costa Rica and enthralled Dad with tales of a cheap cost of living and the locals’ love of Americans (and their American dollars I’m sure, this was when the dollar was still pretty strong.) He told Dad that most of the locals spoke English and you could get a huge house on the beach for cheaper than renting in California.

Most are all of this may have been true. But Mom and I were not too worried about having to pack up and leave the country. My dad’s dreams of Costa Rica were more a way for him to battle his frustration at the high cost of living and unemployment woes facing him in California in the mid-1980’s. I also think part of him cherished a romantic ideal of living the life of some bohemian writer or artist in a tropical paradise. Maybe his Costa Rica dreams helped him survive all of those years living in boring suburbia!

Many kids would have thought a move to a foreign land would be exciting, but I was not the type of kid with an adventurous spirit. I always backed my mom up when she would shoot down Dad’s occasional “let’s move to Costa Rica” campaigns.

How different our lives would have been if we had made a move like that!

I hope he was able to escape to the sunny beaches of Costa Rica at least in his mind as his mental and physical health declined.

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May 7, 2012 · 1:16 pm

Trying to see past the Alzheimer’s

I was reading a fascinating article today about a program at Harvard that connects college students with those suffering from Alzheimer’s in nursing homes. The students visit their “buddy” each week, and the unique part of the program is that it tries to connect resident and student by interest. So one student spends time talking about science with a resident who loves the same subject. It sounds like a neat program. The student that founded the program said, “When you have a family member with dementia, you know who they were, so you really see the decline and what’s not there. That’s one of the cool things about this program. We get to see what is still there.”

This is one image of my father I like to envision when I think of him now, instead of how he looked when he was dying.

This is so true. It’s so difficult as a family caregiver to ignore the pieces of your loved one that become lost to Alzheimer’s, instead of focusing on the core of the person who still remains. I remember different nurses at different hospitals commenting on my dad, “I’d love to see photos of your dad when he was younger. You can tell he was a handsome guy.” When I first heard this, I was shocked. All I could see was the pitiful, emaciated, confused man curled up in the hospital bed. But the nurses had the wisdom to see beyond the present, and imagine the past of a stranger they were not familiar with. They could peel off that layer of dementia and sickness and see who was really underneath. It’s a gift that often eludes those of us that are family members.

Of course, it’s unlikely that a family member can ever be as objective as a stranger can be in this situation. We should not feel guilty for acknowledging the loss and the damage that this disease causes. But it is worth taking a moment to step back and try to see our afflicted loved ones through the eyes of a kind stranger, instead of through the warped lens of dementia.

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