1/28/09

“What’s for dinner?” Dad is watching me unpack the groceries. “Lasagna.” “What’s lasagna?” Kate S. tries to explain “It’s pasta, like noodles, but wide.” “With cheese and tomato sauce,” I interject. “In layers,” she adds. “Is cheese OK?” Dad asks, stumping us both. A moment of silence occurs while we both try to figure out what he means. Coming up blank, we go into Alzheimer’s default mode – cheerful reassurance. “Cheese is great, Dad,” I say, just as Kate S., with equal forced enthusiasm, says “Cheese is awesome.” He gives us a look, clearly thinking that we’re the odd ones. Half an hour later, I realize that he is asking if cheese is OK because I’m a vegetarian. Oops.

Kate S. is telling Dad about her upcoming blood tests, for which she has to fast. “Should I take these tests?” asks Dad. “No, Dad, you don’t have problems with your blood sugar.” “I’ve never taken any tests where I couldn’t eat.” “Yes, you have Dad. You couldn’t eat before your colonoscopy.” “What’s a colonoscopy?” Uh-oh. Now I’ve done it. Might as well be direct. “It’s a test where they stick a camera up your ass, Dad.” “Nobody’s ever stuck a camera up my ass, and if they did, it wouldn’t get very far,” says Dad, indignantly. Later, Kate S. says, laughing, “He must have been thinking of a Nikon!” Dad was an avid photographer when his eyes were good, but that was long before current miniaturization. “It’s a very tiny camera,” Kate S. tells him.

“Dad, you’ve had a couple of colonoscopies , but maybe you don’t remember them because they put you to sleep.” “They can put you to sleep just like that and then wake you up?” “It took a while for you to wake up, and then you were farting a lot, remember? You woke up and asked ‘what’s the French word for fart?’” “What is the French word for fart?” Oh, dear. He won’t stop asking until he gets an answer. I reach for the computer, turn it on. “It won’t be in there,” says Dad, doubtfully. I google “French word for fart” and get a list of sites. I click one and read “pet”. Dad is amazed, “computers can do anything!” Kate S. meanwhile, has spotted a link titled “fart thesaurus” and can’t resist. She starts reading the lengthy list to Dad, who grows more and more astonished. “How many pages are in that book?” We try to explain that it’s a screen, not a book, but he’s focused on the length of the list.

Dad is watching me send a text message. “What is she doing?” “Sending a message,” says Kate S. Dad listens for a minute to the beeps as my fingers hit the letters and then he announces “She knows morse code!”