8/27/09
Dad is still sick – he’s congested and his voice is hoarse. Even worse, the germs have somehow gotten into his eyes, which are red and oozing pus. We’ll have to call the doctor tomorrow.
Being sick has made Dad’s mental abilities deteriorate – he responds pretty appropriately to questions and in conversation, but when he speaks spontaneously, he either leaves the sentences unfinished, or just talks gibberish. For instance, he asked me “when is your normal floor takeover??” And then there was the following exchange; Dad: “I was going to spend time making up, but I didn’t do it, did I?” Me: “Making up?” Dad: “Doing lost causes.”
When I asked how he felt, he said, “My eyes are still drizzling.” He keeps trying to improve the situation by washing his face – in fact, one of his clearest remarks of the evening was “I’m going to wash my face assiduously.”
I tried to engage him in conversation, but it was slow going, as though the words were having to slog through the glop in his head. “The cat is drinking,” I told him. “I wonder if she’s drinking cedar or something stronger?” he asked. “Cats don’t drink cider,” I told him. “They don’t?” he asked. “They only drink water,” I explained, leaving out the unusual instance of Lex, my lemonade-loving grey tabby. “That’s all they drink?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied.
“The cats like to knock over the garbage,” I told Dad. “They think it’s fun.” This made him laugh. “So you tip it over before they get a chance?” he asked, apparently thinking this was a logical solution. “No,” I told him, “I pick it up afterwards.”
“Why is he not sitting down?” he asked me suddenly, looking at thin air. “Why is who not sitting down?” I ask. “Did you see somebody?” “Yeah,” he answers, “but now I don’t see anybody.”
Oddly enough, when I put on Pete Seeger’s cd, Dad not only remembered him, but remembered going to see his concert way back in November and remembered that it was crowded! You never know what’s going to stick in that brain of his.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
8/24/09 Return from Gloucester
8/24/09
Driving home yesterday, Dad tortured us all for hours by asking question after question. “Where are we going?” “What are we going to do next?” “How far is it?” “How much do I owe you?” and on and on. We kept trying to answer them in a way that would make sense to him, but the questions kept reappearing, interspersed with snatches of the Stars and Stripes Forever. It was a huge relief when he fell asleep for a while.
Today he has a cold and is not very happy about it. He doesn’t exactly understand about germs anymore, but when we were both petting the cat and his hand touched mine, he said, “Now I’ve given you the bad things.” I explained that the bad things would have to get to my face to make me sick, and he urged me to wash my hands quickly.
Since was sick, he went to bed early. When I finished cleaning up and went to check on him, he had moved both pillows to the foot of the bed and was sitting up, looking confused. When I asked him what was going on, he said “I’m looking for a tie.” When I responded “a tie?” he mimed putting on a necktie. “You don’t need a tie, Dad, you’re going to bed,” I explained. He sat and thought about that for a while, and then corrected himself, “a hat.” I found his hat and he settled down.
Speaking of finding things, I stumbled across a treasure trove of photos on one of his shelves. Unfortunately, they’re not dated or labeled, and they range from photos from his archaeological expeditions to classroom photos, so I can only figure out details for a few.
For instance, this image is Dad using a microscope on an archaeological expedition – it has writing on the back that says “Arroyo Cuervo” and “Did I ever need that microscope!” (see next post for image)
Driving home yesterday, Dad tortured us all for hours by asking question after question. “Where are we going?” “What are we going to do next?” “How far is it?” “How much do I owe you?” and on and on. We kept trying to answer them in a way that would make sense to him, but the questions kept reappearing, interspersed with snatches of the Stars and Stripes Forever. It was a huge relief when he fell asleep for a while.
Today he has a cold and is not very happy about it. He doesn’t exactly understand about germs anymore, but when we were both petting the cat and his hand touched mine, he said, “Now I’ve given you the bad things.” I explained that the bad things would have to get to my face to make me sick, and he urged me to wash my hands quickly.
Since was sick, he went to bed early. When I finished cleaning up and went to check on him, he had moved both pillows to the foot of the bed and was sitting up, looking confused. When I asked him what was going on, he said “I’m looking for a tie.” When I responded “a tie?” he mimed putting on a necktie. “You don’t need a tie, Dad, you’re going to bed,” I explained. He sat and thought about that for a while, and then corrected himself, “a hat.” I found his hat and he settled down.
Speaking of finding things, I stumbled across a treasure trove of photos on one of his shelves. Unfortunately, they’re not dated or labeled, and they range from photos from his archaeological expeditions to classroom photos, so I can only figure out details for a few.
For instance, this image is Dad using a microscope on an archaeological expedition – it has writing on the back that says “Arroyo Cuervo” and “Did I ever need that microscope!” (see next post for image)
Saturday, August 22, 2009
August 23 Dad's great escape
8/22/09
I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a mistake to take Dad out of his familiar surroundings. He’s still really disoriented and spent pretty much the whole day today peppering me with questions about where we are and what we’re doing here. At one point, I had finally gotten through to him that we are in Gloucester and then he said, “why don’t I just walk home?” and then I had to go through the whole explanation about how he lives in NYC and we’re going back there tomorrow. Then he thought he needed to find an apartment and a job in NYC!
Today we went to our house and visited with one of the tenants, and Dad had one of his “crazy” attacks where he seemed to know absolutely nothing. I was sitting at the table with him, answering question after question, and finally he said, “I’m scared,” and it was just too much for me and the tears started rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t speak so Paul and Kate S. and Brianna had to pinch hit some of the questions for me. Eventually he came out of it, and was able to say that he had felt “crazy”.
I was exhausted when we got back to the motel and so was Dad, so we both took a nap. I must have been deeply asleep because I didn’t hear Dad get up, until I heard a stranger saying, loudly, “the bathroom isn’t here, you’re not in your room!” I jolted awake and discovered that Dad had gone through the room door instead of the bathroom door and was outside, by himself. Luckily, that door led to the parking lot and not the road, rocks and ocean on the other side, any one of which could have been a total disaster for Dad. That would have made a hell of a headline for the local small-town newspaper, where at least one front-page story is usually about fish: “Elder falls in ocean while caregiver sleeps!”
Kate S. and Brianna had the brainstorm of getting takeout and bringing it to the motel while Dad and I stayed behind, sparing him another trip and another new environment. After we ate, Dad went back into inquisition mode, and they headed off to bed, leaving me to answer another barrage of questions. One of the things that gets hard about Dad’s disoriented episodes is that even his ability to process language breaks down, so it’s hard to keep answering his questions and make yourself understood. For instance, he wanted to know what he would do when we got back to NYC, and I explained that lots of people would visit him. He wanted to know why people visited him, and I said, “because you’re a fun guy.” “I’m a sun god?” he asked, bewildered. “No,” I said, “you’re a fun guy.” “Spun guide?” he asked, even more confused, and on we went.
We’re leaving here tomorrow, and even though Gloucester is my “special place” and I love it here, it will be a relief to go. I can’t imagine being here without Dad, but I also can’t wrap my head around coming back with him, at least without a paid caregiver.
I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a mistake to take Dad out of his familiar surroundings. He’s still really disoriented and spent pretty much the whole day today peppering me with questions about where we are and what we’re doing here. At one point, I had finally gotten through to him that we are in Gloucester and then he said, “why don’t I just walk home?” and then I had to go through the whole explanation about how he lives in NYC and we’re going back there tomorrow. Then he thought he needed to find an apartment and a job in NYC!
Today we went to our house and visited with one of the tenants, and Dad had one of his “crazy” attacks where he seemed to know absolutely nothing. I was sitting at the table with him, answering question after question, and finally he said, “I’m scared,” and it was just too much for me and the tears started rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t speak so Paul and Kate S. and Brianna had to pinch hit some of the questions for me. Eventually he came out of it, and was able to say that he had felt “crazy”.
I was exhausted when we got back to the motel and so was Dad, so we both took a nap. I must have been deeply asleep because I didn’t hear Dad get up, until I heard a stranger saying, loudly, “the bathroom isn’t here, you’re not in your room!” I jolted awake and discovered that Dad had gone through the room door instead of the bathroom door and was outside, by himself. Luckily, that door led to the parking lot and not the road, rocks and ocean on the other side, any one of which could have been a total disaster for Dad. That would have made a hell of a headline for the local small-town newspaper, where at least one front-page story is usually about fish: “Elder falls in ocean while caregiver sleeps!”
Kate S. and Brianna had the brainstorm of getting takeout and bringing it to the motel while Dad and I stayed behind, sparing him another trip and another new environment. After we ate, Dad went back into inquisition mode, and they headed off to bed, leaving me to answer another barrage of questions. One of the things that gets hard about Dad’s disoriented episodes is that even his ability to process language breaks down, so it’s hard to keep answering his questions and make yourself understood. For instance, he wanted to know what he would do when we got back to NYC, and I explained that lots of people would visit him. He wanted to know why people visited him, and I said, “because you’re a fun guy.” “I’m a sun god?” he asked, bewildered. “No,” I said, “you’re a fun guy.” “Spun guide?” he asked, even more confused, and on we went.
We’re leaving here tomorrow, and even though Gloucester is my “special place” and I love it here, it will be a relief to go. I can’t imagine being here without Dad, but I also can’t wrap my head around coming back with him, at least without a paid caregiver.
Friday, August 21, 2009
august 21 86th birthday
August 21, 2009
Today is Dad’s 86th birthday! He has re-discovered it several times; as in “today is our birthday?” “No, Dad, it’s YOUR birthday!”and mostly been delighted, although shocked by his age. He says, “I don’t feel more than 25.”
We all gathered in one of our motel rooms and presented him with his gifts: a “stop the whaling” sweatshirt, four music cds - including one of Souza marches (uh-oh) – a hat with the logo of his cigar store, and the most exciting – a box of 100 Macanudo Ascots, his current favorite cigar. He was very happy.
The celebration continued tonight at Alchemy, one of the best restaurants in Gloucester, with our friends John and Paul Henry. Dad wasn’t at his best – we’d been dragging him around all day and he was tired and the restaurant was noisy. He was impatient and barely involved in the conversation; his sole focus seemed to be on dessert. He was also doing his voices, the first time I’ve seen him do that in public, and, on the way out, his groping hand landed squarely on a strange man’s ass. Ooops! To the guy’s credit, he ignored it.
Earlier in the day, we went to Rockport, with the primary goal of purchasing salt water taffy, which is made at this ancient candy store called Tuck’s. Since Dad’s walking is limited, we had to take turns sitting on a bench with him while the others went into the store. Rockport is a lovely, picturesque place to wander around – great for window-shopping, a favorite activity of Brianna’s – but none of us could really wander freely without worrying about whoever was stuck baking on the bench with Dad. We didn’t stay long.
We also went on a quest: to find Dad’s safe-deposit box. We know he has one, probably opened about 60 years ago, but we don’t know which bank it’s in or what, if anything, is inside. We started with the Bank of Gloucester, the obvious choice since he has an old savings account there, but no luck. We then tried the Cape Ann savings bank, which seemed familiar to Dad, but had no records of his box. In the Cape Ann bank, there was a line, and Dad quickly got tired, and began – loudly – asking for a chair. Finally, I got out of line and guided him to a green sofa on one side of the lobby, where he sat kicking his feet with the orange clogs. Luckily, the teller was kind and didn’t make a fuss about him not being the one making the request. I think we’re going to have to wait until the annual bill comes and see which bank it’s from.
Today is Dad’s 86th birthday! He has re-discovered it several times; as in “today is our birthday?” “No, Dad, it’s YOUR birthday!”and mostly been delighted, although shocked by his age. He says, “I don’t feel more than 25.”
We all gathered in one of our motel rooms and presented him with his gifts: a “stop the whaling” sweatshirt, four music cds - including one of Souza marches (uh-oh) – a hat with the logo of his cigar store, and the most exciting – a box of 100 Macanudo Ascots, his current favorite cigar. He was very happy.
The celebration continued tonight at Alchemy, one of the best restaurants in Gloucester, with our friends John and Paul Henry. Dad wasn’t at his best – we’d been dragging him around all day and he was tired and the restaurant was noisy. He was impatient and barely involved in the conversation; his sole focus seemed to be on dessert. He was also doing his voices, the first time I’ve seen him do that in public, and, on the way out, his groping hand landed squarely on a strange man’s ass. Ooops! To the guy’s credit, he ignored it.
Earlier in the day, we went to Rockport, with the primary goal of purchasing salt water taffy, which is made at this ancient candy store called Tuck’s. Since Dad’s walking is limited, we had to take turns sitting on a bench with him while the others went into the store. Rockport is a lovely, picturesque place to wander around – great for window-shopping, a favorite activity of Brianna’s – but none of us could really wander freely without worrying about whoever was stuck baking on the bench with Dad. We didn’t stay long.
We also went on a quest: to find Dad’s safe-deposit box. We know he has one, probably opened about 60 years ago, but we don’t know which bank it’s in or what, if anything, is inside. We started with the Bank of Gloucester, the obvious choice since he has an old savings account there, but no luck. We then tried the Cape Ann savings bank, which seemed familiar to Dad, but had no records of his box. In the Cape Ann bank, there was a line, and Dad quickly got tired, and began – loudly – asking for a chair. Finally, I got out of line and guided him to a green sofa on one side of the lobby, where he sat kicking his feet with the orange clogs. Luckily, the teller was kind and didn’t make a fuss about him not being the one making the request. I think we’re going to have to wait until the annual bill comes and see which bank it’s from.
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