I am the product of two people who met in the 1950's. And now I'm ghastly aware of how fast my life has passed by. Ironically, I couldn't wait to grow up and get married and have a family of my own. Now that I have done all that I'm now wanting time to slow down so I can enjoy the fruits of my "labor", aka grandchildren. In the midst of all the fun of spending time with my grandchildren I am also trying to hold onto the years I have left with my parents before they are gone from my siblings and I.
My father has dementia/alzheimer's - you probably know somebody whose had to deal with this kind of disease. It's hard. Very hard to not lose patience or self control. And I'm not the the main caretaker. My mother has had the role reversal of her life as his caretaker. I'd like to say I share in that responsibility with my sister and brothers. But we really don't have a clue as to what it takes to take care of Dad like mom does. He always took care of everything from paying bills to making major purchases to planning their lives out through the so called golden years. Little did I know this man I lovingly call "Dad" would end up needing mom and my siblings and I more than he could ever imagine.
I have twin brothers who have lived in Texas for most of their adult life raising families of their own. They get to see the changes in dad more drastically than my sister and I because we see dad most every week and have seen his progression into the disease at all stages. They recently came home to Indiana to visit with mom and dad. The sad part of this is dad doesn't recall any of their time spent with him. His short term memory is now no memory of daily life. He'll never remember anymore birthday celebrations, grandchildren sitting on his lap, kisses or hugs, funny stories shared, dinners together, conversations, Christmas', no he'll never have those memories again...
I try to help my mom out as much as I can while still having to work 40 hrs a week and keep up my own little corner of the world. Luckily they only live about three miles from me and I can make quick trips over to their home when mom needs me at a moments notice. And I've had to go and rescue her from her own sanity at times by getting dad out of the house and bringing him to my home for a few hours while mom has a little time to herself. I jokingly tell my husband I hope he is taking notes...
My hope for my father, knowing he will never get better because of this disease, is that he will leave this place with most of his mind still intact. He still calls me by name which I know could change on a dime. Mom told me he's had two instances in the past week when he's awoken from a nap and didn't know who she was...
I know dad is in the beginning of the latter stages of alzheimers. But you know what? Once in awhile my dad will be himself for just a moment and say something to me that only dad would say and I feel on top of the world because I know my dad is still in there somewhere. Most of the time he doesn't talk, he just sits there and I wonder what is going on in his head? How confused must he really feel as he looks around and isn't sure who is sitting across the table from him or why his house doesn't look like the house he remembers years ago with little children running around asking him to please come outside and play baseball. He will get up in the middle of the night and ask mom where the babies are... she has to gently remind him that we are all grown up and live in our own houses. She gently leads him back to bed and tells him to go to sleep... tell me dad, will you remember me tomorrow?
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