We had my father over for dinner last night. He’s 88 and I don’t know how many more Father’s days he’ll see.
The nature of Alzheimers is that it takes the mind in bits & pieces and re-wires it or the wiring just shorts out. One day dad may be focused on mom and wonder where she is (shopping?) & why she didn’t say goodbye (she’s been dead 2 years now but he still sees her & has conversations with her). Another day he was determined to get a car so he could go back to work at the gypsum mine he worked at right after WWII. No amount of redirection seems to work to get dad off of his particular topic of the moment.
Last night I got him settled in a chair with a weak Scotch & soda and he kept commenting on how nice our home was. It didn’t take long until he started to talk about his Army life and conversations he had with the men in his company.
Dad told me this story years ago when he was healthy. The gist of it is that he spoke with a non-commissioned officer who helped him out when he was a young first lieutenant in WWII. Dad told this soldier to let him know when his men wouldn’t listen and follow his orders. Dad told him how he needed to maintain order & control.
“Pull the man aside and talk to him in private. If they don’t straighten up and follow your orders then come & see me. I’ll make sure they follow orders and they won’t like that!” dad said poking his finger into an imaginary soldier’s chest.
While I’m 52 now, seeing my dad show his authority still touched a part of me that remembers being a little boy who was afraid of him. It’s not that he ever abused me but his bearing was such that it demanded respect.
The first time or two of telling this story it sounded very logical and I was beginning to think that dad was having a good day and his thinking was unusually clear. Then it happened. I asked him about his favorite aunt and he repeated the same conversation but this time he replaced ‘him’ and ‘man’ with ‘her’ and ‘women’.
Dad kept repeating this story endlessly. As soon as he finished one telling he started over again. He wouldn’t stop.
I tried to distract and redirect him by asking about different times and people in his life but nothing worked.
“Do you remember what the name of Aunt Flora’s store was?” I asked.
“No, but she had a good bunch of women working for her and I told her if she had any trouble getting them to do what she wanted, all she needed to do was ask and I’d straighten them out.”
“I know your dad’s name was Thomas but what was your mom’s name?” I asked.
He looked at me with blank expression and then went in to it again.
Dad wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. It was like a giant scratch in an old vinyl record. Every time the needle in dad’s mind hit the scratch, it jumped back to the start of the story. My dad’s mortality was talking to me and reminding me I might face the same fate.
I felt my anxiety & guilt growing. I wanted things to be different than they were but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck. It became so uncomfortable that I found myself not wanting to be with my dad on Father’s day. As these feelings grew I felt terrible for having them. How do you reconcile such opposite emotions as loving your father and at the same time wanting so desperately to not be around him?
The only thing that seemed to work was to just watch my thoughts & feelings - to be mindful of them and give myself permission to be human. It wasn’t easy but after a while I was okay with letting dad ramble on while I feigned interest and watched the television or talked about something else.
By the time I took dad home a couple of hours later he had settled down and stopped repeating himself so much. Almost like some cosmic joke when I pulled into the driveway and got out dad said, “I’ll just wait here. I don’t want to go in.”
I pulled his walker out of the back and unfolded it and he added, “I don’t have to go in there do I?”
It felt like when I used to have to take my kids to daycare and they balked. Now it was dad’s turn.
I got him settled in on a couch next to a woman resident and gave him a hug & kiss goodbye.
“Happy Father’s day, dad. I love you.”
“I love you to kiddo. Thank you.”
We had my father over for dinner last night. He’s 88 and I don’t know how many more Father’s days he’ll see.
The nature of Alzheimers is that it takes the mind in bits & pieces and re-wires it or the wiring just shorts out. One day dad may be focused on mom and wonder where she is (shopping?) & why she didn’t say goodbye (she’s been dead 2 years now but he still sees her & has conversations with her). Another day he was determined to get a car so he could go back to work at the gypsum mine he worked at right after WWII. No amount of redirection seems to work to get dad off of his particular topic of the moment.
Dad told me this story years ago when he was healthy. The gist of it is that he spoke with a non-commissioned officer who helped him out when he was a young first lieutenant in WWII. Dad told this soldier to let him know when his men wouldn’t listen and follow his orders. Dad told him how he needed to maintain order & control.
“Pull the man aside and talk to him in private. If they don’t straighten up and follow your orders then come & see me. I’ll make sure they follow orders and they won’t like that!” dad said poking his finger into an imaginary soldier’s chest.
While I’m 52 now, seeing my dad show his authority still touched a part of me that remembers being a little boy who was afraid of him. It’s not that he ever abused me but his bearing was such that it demanded respect.
The first time or two of telling this story it sounded very logical and I was beginning to think that dad was having a good day and his thinking was unusually clear. Then it happened. I asked him about his favorite aunt and he repeated the same conversation but this time he replaced ‘him’ and ‘man’ with ‘her’ and ‘women’.
Dad kept repeating this story endlessly. As soon as he finished one telling he started over again. He wouldn’t stop.
I tried to distract and redirect him by asking about different times and people in his life but nothing worked.
“Do you remember what the name of Aunt Flora’s store was?” I asked.
“No, but she had a good bunch of women working for her and I told her if she had any trouble getting them to do what she wanted, all she needed to do was ask and I’d straighten them out.”
“I know your dad’s name was Thomas but what was your mom’s name?” I asked.
He looked at me with blank expression and then went in to it again.
Dad wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. It was like a giant scratch in an old vinyl record. Every time the needle in dad’s mind hit the scratch, it jumped back to the start of the story. My dad’s mortality was talking to me and reminding me I might face the same fate.
I felt my anxiety & guilt growing. I wanted things to be different than they were but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck. It became so uncomfortable that I found myself not wanting to be with my dad on Father’s day. As these feelings grew I felt terrible for having them. How do you reconcile such opposite emotions as loving your father and at the same time wanting so desperately to not be around him?
The only thing that seemed to work was to just watch my thoughts & feelings - to be mindful of them and give myself permission to be human. It wasn’t easy but after a while I was okay with letting dad ramble on while I feigned interest and watched the television or talked about something else.
By the time I took dad home a couple of hours later he had settled down and stopped repeating himself so much. Almost like some cosmic joke when I pulled into the driveway and got out dad said, “I’ll just wait here. I don’t want to go in.”
I pulled his walker out of the back and unfolded it and he added, “I don’t have to go in there do I?”
It felt like when I used to have to take my kids to daycare and they balked. Now it was dad’s turn.
I got him settled in on a couch next to a woman resident and gave him a hug & kiss goodbye.
“Happy Father’s day, dad. I love you.”
“I love you to kiddo. Thank you.”