Hello Roommate, Goodbye Lady Friend

From the title of this blog, I'm sure you can guess what I am going to write about. This is a funny story, and I love telling funny stories about my Dad.

Megan and I visited Dad the other day because it had been about five days since we'd seen him and he had been feeling anxious. Dad's not having the best week and we can tell the moment we see him. His physical appearance and mannerisms reveal what kind of day he is having. We spotted him walking down the hall, kind of slouching over, looking into people's rooms and down at the floor. When he finally sees us, he immediately tells us that he has to take a poop and a squirt. Well, Hello to you too, Dad. Megan leads him toward his room and I run out to the car to get him a CD to listen to. He is in La La land so I'm hoping the music will wake him up a little.

I get back to the room, and Megan is standing in the doorway of Dad's bathroom holding his underwear out at arm's length and coaching him on how to finish up. We look at each other and immediately start cracking up. It's always so much better when we're visiting together, because we laugh a lot more. Megan says, "Well, I'm so glad that Dad has no problem stripping down in front of me. I just wish I didn't have to hold his dirty underwear." Let's just say that Dad's stomach was a little upset that day.

We head outside to sit in the garden and enjoy the nice weather. We bring some pictures to look at from my Wedding last year. As we're sitting there, Esther (the lady friend) comes over and sits next to Dad. She holds his hand and puts her arm around his shoulder. Like I said before, she doesn't talk. She can only giggle and say "Aye Aye Aye Aye". We found out that she has a frontal lobe dementia that has affected her speech. Dad starts talking to her and she only responds how she can and he looks at us and says, "She's kind of weird, huh? Maybe she's from across the Pond." He thinks she is speaking a foreign language! Then he says, "She must be Canadian." I thought I was going to die of laughter.

After we say bye to Dad, we talk to Lynette, the Head of Whittier Place, because she had requested that we stop by to chat. We find out that Dad is getting a new roommate who is ambulatory, very talkative, and relatively young. She thinks that they are going to be a great fit together but we're a little worried about how Dad will react and we're bracing ourselves for some tough days in the next week.

We also learned that Esther and Dad have been pretty inseparable and that the staff found her in his bed the other night!! She was dressed. He was not. I clap my hand over my mouth. Esther's husband still comes by to visit and now Lynette has to tell him this story as well. The staff separated them and have been monitoring their time together. They're actually worried that Dad is more tired lately because he is constantly walking up and down the halls with Esther--she has a lot of energy and is very clingy and antsy. Apparently he slept until noon earlier in the week! I don't think Dad has ever slept past nine, and he's usually up at seven.

All in all the day turned out to be very amusing, but Dad's not doing well this week. It's difficult for him to keep eye contact or raise his eyes high enough to look into yours. Feeding himself is confusing as well. His words kind of make sense, but his sentences don't. It's still so strange that he can be so bad one day, and then the next day he is normal, healthy, and chatting away.

Two days later, I stopped by and met Dad's new roommate, Ken. He's pretty cute and very talkative. Good cheerful personality. Dad already had some of Ken's clothes hanging in his closet. He was complaining about not having enough clothes, so I guess he went to Ken's store.

Also, Lynette informed me that Esther's husband was moving her out in the next couple days.

In the video below, Dad said that he wanted to go visit his parents and Megan is explaining why he can't do that.

Doctors and Pharmacies

I have been learning a lot about prescriptions lately. They all sound the same so it gets really confusing.

We had my Dad on an anti-anxiety pill, Lorazapam. We originally got the medication to ease his move back in April but he still managed to run away. The medication originally freaked us out. Dad was so loopy, confused, drunk-like, and in a fog. He didn't know what was up or what was down and the deciding factor to take him off the pill was when he put his hands in the toilet to wash them instead of in the sink. Poor thing.

When he started jumping the fence at Whittier Place, they suggested putting him back on the medication. We were adamant about not going down that road again. After talking to the doctor, they prescribed Xanax (aka Alprazolam) instead. The difference between Xanax and the old medication was amazing. Dad was Dad, except just a little less anxious. Bingo! We found one that works for him.

Suddenly, the doctor/pharmacy changed the medication to Clonazapam without even telling us. The staff at Whittier didn't like how this medication made Dad act and they stopped using it. So we had to call the doctor again. It's just frustrating that the Pharmacy would give him Xanax and then change it to something else and not tell anyone. Since my Dad gets his prescriptions through the VA, it's a much longer process than just going to pick it up at the local Rite Aid. The prescription comes in the mail and since I am not home to sign for it then I have to go to the downtown Post Office to pick it up, and then drive it over to Whittier.

Luckily Dad had been having a pretty good last couple of weeks, but he started getting anxious and upset again the past few days and I was finally able to get the Xanax over to Whittier yesterday. We also got him transferred over to the Long Beach VA which is going to be so helpful. He still has this awful rash and the doctor that we were seeing before STILL thinks it's Scabies even though the health department came to Whittier and ruled out that possibility. That doctor doesn't know what it is and she isn't being very helpful. Poor Dad was laying on the floor the other day rubbing his back on the carpet because the itch was so bad. We do have medicine to help with the itch, but obviously it's not helping that much. We're going to make an appointment to get some lab tests done because a couple different doctors have mentioned that a rash could be the result of Liver or Kidney problems. With Dad's track record of drinking, that could be a possibility. Guess we'll see.

Was it a bad dream?

Was last week a bad dream? It's like it never happened. All the bad stuff that Dad was going through last week is a distant memory. He is having a great week. I think it's because Dad doesn't have a roommate anymore, but with this disease, sometimes there's just no reason for any of it. When we visit him, he's happy and I don't get any calls about him being anxious or trying to jump the fence. So, since Dad is having a great week, that means that Megan and I get to have a great week too! Gosh, it feels soooo good.

Seriously, the Dad I see this week is healthier, younger, funnier, and more helpful. I didn't have to tell him how to do anything. He helped me push the cart at Target and knew how to put the cart back in one of those cart corrals in the parking lot. I made him a new mixed CD with oldies songs from the 50s and 60s and he knew them all before the lyrics even started! We sang along to "Wake-up Little Susie", "Tell Him", "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", "Bye, Bye, Love" "Big Girls Don't Cry". This brought me back to my past because I have memories of Megan and I dancing around to "Wake-up Little Susie" in the living room and I sang "Yakety Yak" in the 3rd grade talent show. He introduced us to all those songs, so they have a special place in my heart.

ALSO, Dad has a new lady friend! He had a lady friend when he first moved into Whittier Place, but I think he found her too bossy, so that didn't last very long. When I went to visit him yesterday, he was sitting next to this lady and I heard him say, "I'll be right back." I'm thinking... who is he talking to? He never makes an effort to have friends at Whittier. Dad and I were going to get lunch and before we left, this lady comes over and holds his hand. Her name is Esther and she doesn't really talk... just giggles and smiles. Perfect for Dad!!!! That's probably why he likes her. Apparently they walk up and down the hallways holding hands.

I absolutely know that these good days won't last forever and that he will never get 'better', but there's no reason that I can't enjoy them to the fullest. I would give anything to have a million more days like this with Dad and I am so happy to be writing about them so that I can remember these days during the dark times that I know will come.

HOORAY!!!!!!!!!

DAD HAD A GREAT DAY TODAY!!!! HOORAY!!! And to top it off, today was Father's Day. He was in a wonderful mood. He was silly, and super sweet, and loving. Megan and I both went to visit him and even though we were only there for an hour, we had fun with him. I'm so happy! It really made my day.

ALSO, Dad's roommate, Chuck, is gone. We think he may have been moved to a nursing home. Dad really kind of hated his roommate and I think that may have played a part in his good mood today. He also alluded that Chuck may have come over and hit him and it's possible that there was some sort of confrontation which may have led to him being moved out of the place (I have no idea if this is really true but Dad kept talking about some guy coming over and hitting him). Poor Chuck was having a difficult time and is much more advanced in the disease than my Dad is. So, Dad is in a room all by himself for the time being and he seems really happy about it. I don't think he even noticed that his roommate moved out.

I was in such a dark place two days ago. I am so happy to be writing about a happy event and I feel like I should be apologizing for writing such dismal blogs lately. There's only so much that someone can take and I think I reached my limits a few days ago. At least I know what those limits are now. I am going to stay positive and wait for the next good day. That's really all you can do with this disease.

Below is a video of Dad and Megan. She's explaining that today is Father's Day. He's so cute and sweet.

The Fishing Trip

Today was the much anticipated fishing trip that Dad participates in every year (Dad has gone on 4 of them every summer for the past 12-15 years). There was no way he could have gone without Me or Megan there to help him, so that resulted in me being with Dad for 26 hours straight. (Megan was going to go next time but now we're pretty sure there won't be a next time.)

We started off watching the Laker's game on thursday. Wearing his 25 year old purple corduroy Laker's hat, he sat glued to the TV and was ecstatic. He stayed the night at my house since we had to get up so early the next morning. I never sleep well when he is here because I keep listening for him in the middle of the night and sure enough, at 4 am I heard him get up and I helped him get to the bathroom... he was extremely confused.

We drove down to Oceanside the next morning and it was great to see Dad in a familiar setting with people who are familiar to him. One of his best friends since Middle School, Mike O'Rourke, set the whole trip up and had a lot of his family with him. Dad was pinching the kids' cheeks and saying hi to everybody -- he was especially excited to see Captain Joe and the crew on the boat. Everyone accommodated Dad really well throughout the entire day, we both caught a good amount of fish, and the weather was great. (The picture above is with The Captain after Dad caught a Calico Bass.)

Ok, so the day doesn't sound completely disastrous but being with him for that long almost sent me over the edge. My frustration was probably greater than usual because this whole week has been bad for him and I was just tired and worn out from it. He can't do anything by himself anymore. I even have to make sure he is facing the toilet when he pees. Half way through the day, I realized that this fishing trip would be perfect if it were only half a day long -- and we still had four hours left. Dad was starting to get confused and began to retreat inside himself a little. I'm not going to give a play-by-play of the day (like I did to Megan and my Mom) but let me just say that it was like teaching a blind man to fish or better yet teaching someone to fish who doesn't understand English. He seems like he never sees what you are pointing at or what you are trying to hand him, but then I realized that he doesn't comprehend what it is that you are telling him. Think of how many things I probably asked him to do in the last 26 hours, "Take your fishing pole." "Let's sit down." "Look at that Halibut." Each simple task was overwhelming and confusing to him. He usually just stands there with a blank look on his face.

Dad was especially confused about casting out his line and we did it for him most of the day. He did it really well a couple of times, but then one time, instead of casting the line into the water, he cast it across the boat the opposite way! Luckily we didn't slap anyone in the head with the anchovy or hook anyone who was standing over there, but that's when I realized he was kind of dangerous.

I kept digging deeper and deeper to find the patience I needed and I ran out a couple of times. By the end of the day there was none left. I felt hopeless and annoyed, afraid of snapping at him, so I just tried to keep my mouth shut. There have been so many bad days lately that I have almost given up on Dad having a good day again, but I have to remember that even though Megan and I are suffering through his behavior, Dad is suffering too.

In Dad's mind, he if fine. He wants a job and can't understand why he is locked up in a place with people so much older than him. He begs and pleads with us to get him out of there. It's heart-breaking. Reality is that he needs every bit of help. He needs locked exits. Whittier place is so nice and he is lucky to be there. They have live entertainment almost every week, they take bus rides around town, they play bowling in the middle of the hallways, and he can garden all he wants!

The staff at Whittier or any place with a Dementia ward are amazing. I can't give enough praise for the hard work they do for people like my Dad. I only spent 26 hours with him, but they do this every day. Even more difficult is someone like my Mom's next door neighbor who is taking care of his wife 24/7 who has severe Alzheimer's. He will call my Mom and say, "Paula, I need you for moral support. Now." And she will go running over there. The frustration comes fast and hard. It's a tough thing to balance. People say this disease is awful and we all know it, but when you are going through it with a family member, it's much more awful than you ever thought it would be.

The only "good" thing that I realized today is that Dad does seem to be getting worse. His coordination is very fragile and he doesn't move as fast as he used to. I'm hoping this will start inhibiting his escapes and that we will start getting less resistance from him.

Then again, when I took him back to Whittier place after fishing, he started mumbling, "Got to get the hell out of this place and get me a job" and "I'm locked up in the place again". Great. The day isn't over yet. A new resident started shrieking down the hall about needing help, and Dad yelled at a lady who was lurking in her doorway. He was very upset to be back there. I was not surprised when Whittier called me on my way home to say that Dad was anxious. He told me, "just wanted to tell you that I am getting out of here". (I even thought, "fine, go, I don't care"). With absolutely no patience left, I could barely think of anything to say. I got him to agree to wait until the next morning and we'll talk about it then.

I am Grateful

I've gotten a call every day this week from Whittier because Dad is trying to jump the fence. I cringe when I hear the phone ring. He is not having a great week.

So, as soon as my Yoga teacher had us sit still and cross-legged with our eyes closed today, I could feel emotion well up inside me. That's been happening a lot lately in Yoga, although less and less as time goes on. The minute I sit still and look inside myself I start to feel the sadness from losing Nana and the frustration from Dad's situation. My teacher told us to have compassion in our hearts and asked what and who we were grateful for. Then with my eyes still closed, I smiled. I am very Grateful.

I am grateful to have Blake, Megan and my Mom. I am grateful to still have Papa. I am grateful to have so many family and friends who are so supportive. I don't write this blog for sympathy. I write it for therapy and for the wonderful support that has poured from our family and friends. I am grateful for your support.

I also write this blog for the few friends and family that my Dad has left. Unfortunately he never really nurtured his relationships as the years went by. He had a dysfunctional family growing up and had a difficult time developing strong family ties. He was separated from family members for years. Grudges were held and many family members didn't talk for years and some still don't talk. I haven't seen my half brother in 20 years and have NEVER met my Dad's brother. I am not pointing blame at anyone... they are all at fault, including my Dad... but so many years have gone by... does it really matter anymore? What I find sad is that these relationships can never really be mended because of my Dad's disease. Even the relationships that never turned sour just became distant because unfortunately my Dad was not good at picking up the phone.

If my Dad hadn't turned things around the last 12 years, he wouldn't have much of a relationship with Me and Megan either. I always said that my parents divorce was the best thing that could have happened for our relationship with our Dad. As he got older and less angry he started to soften and reach out to people. I spent most of my childhood afraid of him, but by the time I was 15 or 16, we became friends. I say friend because he wasn't really an authoritative father figure. He kind of lost that right, but we had a relationship and that's what mattered. Forgiveness is a powerful thing. He was sweet and stubborn and a part of our lives. Now it seems he is a bit too much a part of our lives, but it's ok.

The reason I bring all this up is because this past week my Dad has been living in his memories of 20 or even 40 years ago. He keeps talking about all "his people" in Pasadena. There's really no one there anymore. He feels such a closeness to them even though he hasn't talked to many of them in a long time. Most people have moved on, or passed away. It's kind of sad and he wouldn't understand, so I can't really explain it to him.

There are people who are following this blog that have meant a lot to my Dad in his life. My sister Kelly in Oregon, cousin Darlene in Oregon, my Aunt Tammy in Northern California, Uncle Ron and Aunt Linda in Oxnard, Cousin Joyce in Georgia, and the Henning/Howell/Violi family from our Fallbrook days and so many more. I pass on your messages to him and sometimes he understands. He has a lot of people who love him and I will keep reminding him. Feel free to send him cards or pictures. He can get mail. Here is the link to his place...

http://www.whittierplaceseniorliving.com/

Good vs. Bad

Today was one of Dad's worse days in a long time. He tried to climb the fence today and when I talked to him on the phone, he hung up on me twice. So I went to Whittier. An hour later I walked away feeling bummed out. He's upset and confused and kind of seems depressed... I'll get into more of it later. (after I go to the gym for the second time today cause this situation stresses me out)!

Dad's token 'bad day' phrases:
"I have no money"
"They steal all my things"
"I want to see my people"
"I'll walk there"

He thinks he can walk to Pasadena or the ocean when in fact we all know it is really far...
Anyway, I attached two videos... one is of him on a good day with Megan and the other one is from today.

Denial

I sit here with tear-stained cheeks cradling a glass of wine. (You're so dramatic Kristen, you say). I know, but I speak the truth.

There comes a time when you have to face denial. Especially with Alzheimer's and Dementia. Denial comes easily with this disease. "Dad's too young to be losing his memory". "Dad is fine to live alone." "Dad doesn't have to be in a lock-up facility... he can still clean his dentures." No, he can't. Face it.

There's also the financial denial. I have to give us a little credit on this one. We didn't think it would take this long to sell his mobile home. We also didn't know he would lose so much money on it or that his Morgan Stanley investments would have plummeted so much. Someone like my husband Blake who is getting his masters in business and finance would know this, but I do not. The minute I hear numbers my mind shuts down. Yeah, I took Honors Math all through High School, but I was tutored through the entire thing. It was torture.

We had been scrambling for a place to put Dad when my Mom found Whittier Place Senior Living. Dad had been living between me, Megan, and my Mom for about a week after running away from the first place we put him. Whittier is so nice and actually very affordable when you compare it to other facilities. What took us over our budget is all the extra 'stuff' that they charge you for. $100/month to have someone help them with their dentures or $120/month for the patient to get 5 showers a week... the list goes on. (Even with all the added expenses, the place is still pretty cheap). We knew that we were above his budget but at that point we were desperate to get him in a secure place. The plan was to let him live there for the next few years while he is still young and active and then when he gets worse, we can move him to a different place.

Well, Dad's money is running out soon and he's not selling the mobile home fast enough. I'm freaking out. When we're already spending so much time visiting and worrying about rashes or trying to stop him from running away, how can we think about one more thing? Well, I'm going to stop crying and try.

We're going to meet with a lawyer and hopefully get more information about Medical. And we have some legal and financial complications (that I won't go into) and I can't even begin to understand all of it. Luckily Megan and I have my Mom who looks up EVERYTHING on the internet in record speed and is extremely quick in learning about all these government programs. We also have Blake. He is the more fiscal conservative among us and a great forecaster when it comes to finance. I'm hoping between the two of them and Dad's lame Power of Attorney (Me), we can figure it all out.

What makes the possibility of moving Dad worse? I feel like in the past week or two, I've started to notice a small change in my Dad. I think he is starting to consider Whittier Place as his home.

The Rash

(laughing to myself)
I'm not sure what to talk about first today. Should it be the itchy rash that my Dad has acquired, or the fact that when I went into his room today he was walking around in just a t-shirt (nothing else), or the fact that they may have found the source of the urine smell in his room (yay)? Hmmm.

I will start with the rash. Megan took Dad to the doctor two days ago and was told that Dad has Scabies (pronounced like Rabies). That has got to be the ugliest sounding word in the English language. Scabies is a skin mite that causes itchiness and red bumps and is very contagious. I kind of compare it to head lice, but for the body. Everything had to be washed and cleaned and Dad had to sleep overnight in a special skin cream. Poor Megan had to deal with it and felt itchy all day even though it was mostly in her head. She jumped right in the shower when she got home. Turns out now, he didn't have Scabies. We still don't know what it is. I feel bad for him though because he is itching a lot.

When I get to his room today, I get mooned by my Dad. He is standing there with only a t-shirt on and I am praying that he doesn't turn around. He's not afraid of standing naked in front of anyone... he could care less. But, guess what Dad? I care. Put some pants on please. Actually, why don't we start with underwear. Even that would be better. I figured out that he had been putting "lotion" on his legs, arms, and hands. I know he is itchy, so I can't blame him for trying to do something to relieve the itch. When I looked at the bottle though, I realize that he had been putting a 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner on his body instead. By this time, he had his pants back on, so we didn't wash off his legs, but when we washed his hands there were so many bubbles coming off of him. They're going to have a fun time helping him shower tonight!

The good news today is that we think we found the source of the urine smell in his room. They tore his room apart trying to figure it out and found that the bottom of the cabinets in the bathroom next to the toilet were soaked... probably with urine. As I said before, Dad's roommate has issues going to the bathroom and it's possible that my Dad could also be "missing the target" when peeing as well. A new cabinet has been ordered and should be here by the end of the week. I have to thank Whittier Place for really trying to solve this problem! I hope it works.

Dad is still having a difficult time remembering which bed and closet is his. He goes over and sits on Chuck's bed or takes clothes out of Chuck's closet. Today, I labeled his closet and bed. I doubt it will help, but it's worth a try. I attached a picture of Dad's room and labeled closet. He was in a great mood today. Flirting with the ladies and walking through the garden with me. Hope he's this happy next time.

Side note: We're still really worried about Dad's financial situation. He is losing money monthly right now... mostly due to the fact that he still hasn't sold his mobile home. Two rent checks per month takes a toll. It just seems that he is finally settling in and it would be awful to move him to a cheaper place right now, but I guess it does come down to the money. We are still trying to look into every resource possible before having to move him. Cross your fingers!

The Smell Of Pee

Dad's room smells like Pee. Constantly. Some days are so bad that you can smell his room down the hall and you start choking. We do know that his roommate Chuck has some bowel issues. On the day after Dad moved in, Megan caught his roommate standing in the middle of the doorway to their room and peeing... ON THE CARPET. Since then, my Dad has actually wet the bed a couple of times and I think once mistook his closet as the bathroom in the middle of the night. He seems to be doing much better now. But the smell is still there. Constantly.

Most days I don't want to go in his room, but it's always good to check out what's going on in there. His room is like a box of chocolates... you never know what you're gonna get. :) Actually, chocolate is not quite the right word... maybe an old attic or something. When I walked in, his desk lamp was on the floor of the bedroom, his CD player wasn't working anymore, and he had a collection of Christmas cards on his dresser that belonged to someone else. Just like an old attic, right?

Dad had so many clothes in his closet today and I was able to identify about half of the items as Chuck's. I'm sure it does get confusing when you see two closets in your bedroom and you think that you can pick clothes from either one. The last piece of clothing that I picked up from the bottom of the closet was wet and I'm pretty sure it was pee that I was touching. Gross.

Anyway, we went to Wal-Mart to get him a new belt and a new laundry basket. (This past week Dad has been packing up his things to "move to LA" as one of the nurses told me, so I have no idea where his belts are and he obviously doesn't remember.) He was in a great mood and we listened to the Beach Boys on the way. You should hear him sing the high notes!

Dad used to work at Wal-Mart so he likes going there. In the video I posted today he comes up with the idea that maybe he could start working there again but then gets side-tracked cause he starts checking out this girl in the parking lot who is wearing short shorts. "Booty shot" he calls it. And then I make fun of him and he says, "Oh, Dirty Dave. Yeah, I'm kind of looney. Classified." Haha. Yes Dad, you are looney and a little dirty!

We get back to his home in Whittier and I am ready to spray the room from top to bottom with the new air freshener that we bought. We walk into the room and I see Chuck laying face down on the floor with a swivel chair half on top of him. Of course, I check to see that he can hear me and then I run for help. My Dad says, "What happened? What's wrong?" as I'm running away. It doesn't occur to him that Chuck fell down and probably hit his head. I don't think he even noticed him on the ground.

I knew now that I was going to be late for work. As I rushed to leave, I spent the last few minutes rubbing 1% Hydrocortisone on my Dad's back because he has an itchy rash. Guess we'll be taking him to the doctor on Monday. Before I left, I saw the nurse shut the window in their bedroom. Oh Goodie, she is trapping the pee smell in the room!!

Vacation from Dad

Most days I do have something better to do than to take 2 hours out of my day to hang out with Dad. I'm annoyed. It's just how I feel today. I spent half my day in the car and if I didn't have to go to Whittier, I could have gotten a lot more done (whiny, I know). I am leaving for vacation on Saturday which means two things...
1. I have a million things to do before then.
2. I had to visit Dad today cause neither of us can go the next 4 days.

As I said before, he tries to run away when he hasn't seen his daughters for a few days. The deal was that they won't raise his monthly rate if Megan and I visit a lot more. I know this is temporary and, for the moment, better than going through the moving process again. On the other hand, it's frustrating. Rearranging schedules just to go visit him and reassure him that we haven't forgotten him.
Moving my Dad closer to us was supposed to be great because then we could visit him once a week (where in Fallbrook is was once a month if that). We definitely didn't expect 4 times a week.
All I can say is that I've deserved my Vacation! See you next week Dad.

Listening

I sit here enjoying my glass of wine and think about our visit with my Dad today. It is always easier when Megan is with me. We notice the same things. Particularly a shift in his mood.

Dad got quiet when we brought him back home after a picnic in the park with ducks. He was upset and he always wants to walk us out when we say we have to leave. We don't want him near the exits, so we always try to divert him. Today he said, "I want to talk to you."

We decide to take him seriously and listen for once. He talks about his frustrations and how he wants a job so badly. We listen and agree with him and it makes him happy. I think we're so used to telling him what to do or trying to make a joke to cheer him up that we forget to just listen. (We can't fix anything that he wants us to fix of course, but he is satisfied that we're listening). That's all he wanted today.

Megan read a pamphlet about how to talk to people with Alzheimer's. (I read it too and forgot what it said... I only remember thinking that we already do most of the things it was telling us to do -- oops, I should have paid more attention). One of the things was to listen and agree. It helps make him feel less powerless.

He was much happier after that and he felt OK that we were leaving. He even remembered that we were going to Arizona this weekend to see Papa. Clear as day he said, "Tell all those people over there Hi. And tell Papa I am sorry about... (and he went on)" OMG, he remembered that Nana died!!! And he was so sincere. And I felt like we had this moment with Dad today where he understood our sadness about Nana. And HE was actually sad about Nana. It was a moment where I felt like I had a Dad. A Dad who would console his daughters after they lost their Nana.

A Good Day

Today was my turn to visit Dad. I looked up something fun to do and found an arcarde nearby. That would be fun.

When I arrived they had all been gathered in the dining room of the Memory Care area. I put my face up against the glass and waited for him to spot me. Then, like a child being picked up from school by his mom, he smiled and giggled and immediately ditched the other people at his tabel to come see me... mumbling something like "That is my girl".

Usually in the car I put on his favorite jazz tunes and that transforms into something wonderful. Today, instead, we called my half sister, Kelly, who lives in Oregon. (We had already talked that morning and she is supposed to reinforce to Dad that he lives in a great place and that he shouldn't try to escape.) Dad tells her, "I almost forgot you." I am just happy that he genuinely does seem to know who she is today. Who knows how much longer he will remember her since they never see each other.

The good news is that today is a good day. I can tell already -- I won't have to calm him or answer difficult questions. He is pretty merry. We get to the arcade and it is closed -bummer- so we go over to Ruby's for lunch.

My childhood was spent in Fallbrook -- the avocado town -- so I ordered Dad a guacamole burger and he got really excited. Talking about avocados makes him happy because it is still familiar to him. All the while, Dad is cracking me up. He is so funny it hurts sometimes. Interestingly enough, growing up he had jokes that were dirty or slightly racist and we definitely did not find them funny. (He still makes dirty jokes).

The funny factor comes from the randomness of what he says or the moments of clarity that you don't expect or the old sayings that he makes up on the spot. And it makes him feel so good when he makes you laugh.

After laughing for a few minutes Dad asks, "So when am I gonna die?" Hmmmm. I told him that he is so healthy that he may live for 15 more years (and he will continue to be a pain in the butt). :) He said that someone told him he was dying. Someone probably did, I don't dispute that. He lives with 20 other residents who have Dementia or Alzheimer's -- so there's no question that one of his crazier house-mates probably told him that. I don't know how he drank so much beer his whole life and has turned out so healthy. When I pointed that out to him he said, "I quit that stuff." Right.

Dad loves women. And at Ruby's the waitresses wear those pink and white dresses. After one of them walks by he says with a devilish smile, "Wait, get back here. I wanna talk to you." Good thing she didn't hear him but I am dying laughing because he has his messy guacamole burger that is the size of his head in one hand while simultaneously trying to flirt with the waitress. Who says this guy doesn't have it together?!

When we run out of things to talk about I start pointing out interesting objects around the diner like you would do for a child. Anything to keep him from dwelling on the fact that the place he lives in "locks him up with old people who steal from me". (In his own words). I want to tell him that he takes things that don't belong to him as well, but I refrain. In fact, he is wearing a shirt today that definitely belongs to his roommate Chuck.

After commenting that the 'green burger' 'kicked his ass', we leave to run more errands. I clip his fingernails in the parking lot, he helps me pick out new pillows for my couch, and I take a picture of him wearing these $2.00 children's foam fish sunglasses. (He can't wait to go fishing again. I keep telling him -- Soon!! In June we'll go fishing!)

I take him back to his home -- the part we all dread the most because we never know how he will react. I make him wear his new fish glasses and that gives me a lot of attention which he really likes. Today is a smooth transition. I leave him with all the ladies playing BINGO, which he said he doesn't like playing.

I blow him a kiss and get out of there fast. I feel good. Like I said, today is a good day.

Alzheimer's is Expensive

11:00 May 19th 2010: The phone rang and it was Whittier Place. Dad had gotten out again. He didn't get far but they couldn't get him to go back inside. I was already planning to visit him that day, so I left quickly and called Megan to come as well.

We got him back inside and fed him lunch. He complains: I need a job. I don't want to garden because they already have a gardener. These people take my stuff. I have no money.

Later that day, the head of Generations Memory Care where my Dad lives called to say she needed one of us to be there with him through the night or she would have to implement 24-hour care. I freaked out! 24-hour care would cost $1700 more a month. Great. Are we going to have to move him again? And to a place that is dumpy so that he can afford it?

The next morning in a meeting with Whittier Place, I break down. We end up compromising. Megan and I are going to visit 4-5 days a week and they won't raise his rate. This is our last chance to make this place work and it will only take one bad day for my Dad to ruin it. Fingers are crossed!!

I can't help but wonder how people afford care for Alzheimer's patients. My Dad's monthly payment would have gone up to a total of $5000 if they implemented 24-hour care!!! Whittier Place is moderately priced, so some are more and some are less. There is no fixed price at these types of homes -- the cost can go up and down depending on the needs of the resident.

Has America forgotten these patients? The system definitely fails someone like my Dad who is only 70 years old and is so physically active that he jumped the fence when he ran away earlier that day. He doesn't feel like he belongs with people who are 10 or 15 years older than him and he also needs a lot of activity to keep him happy and preoccupied.

I am not saying that the staff doesn't deserve the money he pays them. Because they do deserve it. They are constantly dealing with the disease and they are bending over backwards to accommodate my Dad. He's really sweet when he wants to be. Pinching cheeks and all that.

But how do families afford to give their loved ones the quality of life that they deserve? That is a question that I can't answer and that will be haunting us for the next 10-15 years (God forbid 20) as we go through this struggle with my Dad.

The only thing I can hope for in the future is the possibility of a cure or something to slow down the disease. Stem Cell Research. It's too late for my Dad... but what about me and Megan?

A Very Brief History of Dad's 'Situation'

The first signs of dementia that my Mom, Megan, and I noticed in my Dad was when Wal-Mart told him to take some time off work for a little while. That was 5 years ago and he was 65 years old.

My parents are divorced and my sister, Megan, is 23 and I am 26. I am not going to bore you with the past history of our relationship with our Dad but it wasn't really a typical father-daughter relationship. As we got older, we didn't see him as often (both of us busy with high school, college, work etc), so we had no idea that he was showing signs of Dementia. We weren't surprised though because his mother had Alzheimers.

He lived in a mobile home park for seniors and did OK on his own for a while. We tried to visit but we didn't live close, so it wasn't very often. In April 2009, we hired a caregiver for him during the day and we knew financially that we couldn't do that for long and that he would need more extensive care.

We found a Board and Care in Huntington Beach for him. B & C's are homes that five or six people live in with 24 hour care. Unfortunately, the woman running the place rubbed my Dad the wrong way and on April 5th, 2010, he ran away in the rain -- he climbed out the window. He was soaking wet and was almost a mile from the home when I found him. He thought he was in Pasadena where he grew up. I was furious. He was smiling.

The three of us scrambled all week to find him a new place. We were naive and finally realized that he needed to be in a lock-down facility especially designed for Alzheimers and Dementia patients. We found an extremely nice place for the price in Whittier and moved him in. Two days later I went to visit him and he wasn't there -- he had run away again. This time the police were contacted. The Fire Department found him and he was taken to the hospital.

There he was sitting in the hospital bed with dried blood on his head (he had to get stitches) and wearing a shirt that said, "I'm too sexy for my hair that's how come it isn't there."

He went back to Whittier Place and has been there for six weeks now. He still tries to leave but the staff are amazing and really try to keep him busy. It's tough on all of us and every time I see Whittier's number pop up on my phone, I get nervous.

This blog will provide me a way to share this experience with people and to bring to light the issues surrounding this disease. And most of all, I want to share my memories and experiences that I am having with my sweet Dad. Some moments are so amazing and crazy that I can't not share.