August 17, 2012 · 9:01 pm

Finding the hidden gems

Dad was such a packrat. He was like that long before the Alzheimer’s, but it got much worse once the disease progressed.

A Mum’s boy!

I just went through several grocery shopping bags full of Dad’s papers. Most were thrown under the bed, hanging out with the dust bunnies. Most of it was junk mail. There were dozens of cards and letters addressed to family members that were never sent. Lots of address labels that will never be used, and old bank statements.

But tucked deep into some of that junk mail were gems. Like this photo of Dad, as a teenager, with an inscription on the back: “To the sweetest Mum a Son could have. God bless you Mother. From your Loving Son.”

If I had not been very careful and deliberate, if I had rushed and not went through ever page in those bags, gems like this photo would have been lost forever.

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August 16, 2012 · 8:25 pm

Love from the librarians

As I have mentioned before, Dad loved the library. I visited the local library today and asked if I could use his card.

The librarian’s face lit up. “Patrick was such a sweet guy.”

I caught her up on Mom’s medical situation and it turns out her Mom had colon cancer as well. Small world! She said her Mom refused to deal with the colostomy bag as well.

She also told me how towards the end, before Dad went to the nursing home, he would sit down at a table and take all of the contents out of his wallet. They would gently encourage him to put everything back.

Dad kept going to the library even when he probably forgot what the place was for.

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August 15, 2012 · 9:29 pm

Retracing Dad’s steps

There’s a lovely trail near my parents’ condo. Mom and Dad used to walk this trail frequently. It was one of their favorite things to do in Ruidoso.

Yesterday I found myself on the same trail, which overlooks a golf course with a majestic mountain range in the background.

Everyone walking the trail seemed so relaxed. They were out enjoying nature, such a wonderful stress reliever.

I know I will be walking this trail frequently in the weeks to come and I hope it can bring me the same joy. I can feel my Dad’s spirit with every step I take.

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August 14, 2012 · 7:43 pm

Preparing for a return home

Dad sadly never had a chance to return home. He went from the hospital to the nursing home and then back to the hospital before dying in a skilled nursing facility.

Mom’s ending should be different. I am preparing Mom’s condo for her return. I am a bit nervous about the homecoming and how she and I will manage living together. Of course I am still concerned
about her medical condition as well.

But I am thankful that she is well enough to return home, and that she wants to come back home.

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August 13, 2012 · 12:22 pm

Memory takes a hit with illness

With Dad, he was already in the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s when he developed gallstones and had to have major surgery. It was hard to tell if his mental state suffered from the anesthesia and slow recovery period. His “new normal” mental state was already compromised.

With Mom, she was showing a few signs of mental decline, but now it’s hard to know whether it was related to the cancer creeping up on her or actually the beginnings of dementia. Her mental state actually has improved quite a bit, I’d say she’s 80 percent there. She does complain about holes in her memory, especially during the time when she became so ill and through the surgery period when she was in the hospital.

I get an update today on when she will be released home. She wants to go, but her memory of home is fuzzy now. Hopefully, all of the familiar items will bring her comfort once she’s settled back into her “new normal” of a life with a colostomy bag.

And perhaps those glitches in her memory are a protective mechanism. There’s a lot in the last two months that I would like to forget! Maybe Mom is better off with the cloudy memory for now.

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August 12, 2012 · 10:28 pm

Dad as an activist

I’ve come across more newspaper article clippings while going through some of Dad’s belongings. I was aware of a few of his “letters to the editor” submissions, but I had no idea his opinions were published on such a wide variety of topics. I’ll post the ones I found soon.

He also received personal responses from book authors who were writing about the Irish troubles. I wish I had a copy of the original letter Dad sent; the authors were very polite but indicated they would have to “agree to disagree.”

Dad did have a love of his homeland and of history in general, especially the issue of immigration. He may have been a blue-collar kind of guy, but he could have easily earned a college degree if he had had the opportunity.

I picture him penning these letters, some bitter, some reflective, over a beer at the end of a long night of work, or perhaps before work over a cup of coffee with cream and sugar.

Dad clearly wanted his voice to be heard, and I’m glad he was given a public opportunity to do so.

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August 11, 2012 · 6:48 pm

The loss of reason

I feel bad for Mom being surrounded by dementia patients who remind her of Dad. There is the man who eats hurriedly as if someone is holding a gun to his head. Dad ate like that too. Then there’s Theresa, who wanders constantly down the hallways of the nursing home. Dad’s wandering at home worried Mom half to death; he continued to wander when he was in the dementia ward at the nursing home across town, but at least he was in a secure facility and Mom didn’t have to be his security guard 24/7.

Recently, Theresa tried to break out of the facility by trying to push open the security door. Mom had to yell at her to get away from the door before the alarm sounded.

Mom is still trying to keep others safe, just like she did with Dad.

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August 10, 2012 · 8:29 pm

Trying to correct past wrongs

As I’ve written about before, I have guilt about not visiting Dad in the last few weeks of his life on this earth. Dad didn’t recognize me at that point, but I would have benefited from spending time with him that final December of his life.

Today, I quit my decent-paying job so that I can go stay with Mom in New Mexico and help her until she is more independent. I may be there a month or six months, I just don’t know now.

I am not the type to quit a job on a lark. This was a difficult decision, but a necessary one.

And I hope that I have reset my karma after the last month and a half, and the sacrifice I’m making going forward. My mom deserves it, just like Dad did, but now I have one last chance to do things right.

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August 9, 2012 · 7:30 pm

Trouble at the nursing home

From my experience, it does seem that specialized dementia wings are better for residents overall than mingling the mentally incapacitated with the physically challenged. Dad lived in a secure wing of a facility, a wing dedicated to Alzheimer’s patients. Now he still had his troubles there, wandering into people’s rooms, etc. I don’t think those issues can be eliminated without heavy-handed medicating, which the nursing home did engage in from time to time.

But Mom is in a skilled nursing wing of a nursing home, which is also co-ed and houses both patients with physical ailments and dementia. There are a couple of male residents who come into Mom’s room because her roommate smokes and they help themselves to her cigarettes. When I visited yesterday, one of these guys pulled up in his wheelchair right next to Mom at the dining room table, which was already full with other residents. He bumped into her, then mumbled an apology. But he spent the next several minutes rocking back and forth in his wheelchair, almost bumping into her again each time while she was trying to eat. Finally he took off.

We saw him after lunch and he tried to wheel up right behind Mom as she was slowly making her way down the hall in her wheelchair. I literally had to step behind her to give her space, and I could feel the guy’s wheelchair nipping at my ankles. I heard him mutter, “I’ll let her have the back.” I didn’t realize nursing home residents divided up territory like gang members!

One resident was so fed up she had staff put a bright, yellow sash across her door (connected with velcro). It said, “DO NOT ENTER.” Did that stop the man being passive-aggressive with my mom? Nope. I heard this loud rip and there he was tearing the blockade down!

Today Mom told me the man was moved to another facility. I think that was the right move. The man is suffering from a disease where he can’t control his actions, so he can’t really be blamed, but the safety of all of the other residents is of paramount importance.

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August 8, 2012 · 5:13 pm

The grandpa I never knew

I never had the opportunity to meet any of my grandparents. On my mom’s side, they were both deceased before I was born, with my mom’s mother dying exactly two months before I was born.

On Dad’s side of the family, his father and mother died within months of each other, so my first year on earth was definitely a mixture of happiness and grief for my father.

Dad worshipped his mother but was tight-lipped about his father. I think they had a distant relationship at best. Maybe that’s why it became tougher for Dad to know how to be a father as I graduated out of the baby/little girl stage and grew up. I don’t think his own father was around that much when he was growing up, so he was heavily influenced by his mother and sisters.

I came across this prayer card recently, with one of the only photos I’ve ever seen of my grandfather. I wish I knew more about him, and had learned more about his own background and any family stories that he was a part of. But instead, all I have is the image of a smiling man, who apparently did not make Dad smile the few times I remember him talking about his father. Those dark secrets, those troubled times remain locked behind that smile.

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