Taking care of my father has become quite a formidable task. Every day has new challenges as his Alzheimer’s continues to advance. It will now be three years in May since I started to take care of him. In the beginning he was still able to walk by himself and tend to his garden among other things. Unfortunately, I have seen first-hand both his mental and physical decline. Mentally, he appears to be in a constant state of confusion, not knowing the difference between a spoon or fork, his bedroom and the bathroom and whether I am his son or brother or, at times, his father (he has referred to me as all those names). Physically, his ability to walk has degenerated to the point that he needs a cane, moreover, he will probably need a wheelchair soon, very soon.
Surprisingly he has some wonderful moments of lucidity where he appears to be pretty normal. Unfortunately those moments appear when we have guests who thereby think that I am crazy for claiming that my father is ill. Of course those visits are generally brief so that our guests may go away with mistaken impressions. On the other hand I am with my father 24-7; and his behavior varies hour from hour.
Like the time I heard a splashing sound at about three in the morning when apparently my father thought the hallway was the bathroom and he proceeded to urinate in a planter (the plant though bewildered survived that encounter). Or the time my father decided to hide in a closet while I went crazy trying to find him. Or my father’s daily extensive conversations on politics and society… with our parrot (named Henry). I am expecting Henry to answer him back any day now.
In the last couple of weeks a new pattern of sleeplessness had emerged in my father; consequently leading to a constant pattern of sleeplessness in yours truly. I contacted my father’s doctor who then prescribed some very strong sleeping pills. Well now he sleeps so deeply that he actually begins singing very loud at about three in the morning sound asleep. Actually, I’ve gotten rather used to his early morning serenades.
Speaking of doctors, It has become quite apparent that their attitude (when dealing with seniors) is somewhat patronizing. It is as though they would rather deal with younger patients. Almost as if they do not really care. I mean my father’s health program does not even have a geriatric’s department. Everything is geared to the younger components of our society; even medical care.
Suffice to say that GOD has placed me in my current situation and I gladly (though at times quite tiredly) accept this challenge. I have lost many job opportunities, I have lost some supposed friends, but I have gained so much more than I have lost. My perspective on taking care of my father is that I am exactly where I am supposed to be; doing the right thing for the right reasons. Moreover, if I have contributed in making my father’s life a bit more comfortable because of his situation, then in turn his situation has enriched me in a way that I would never have imagined. I would never trade my current situation for any other “job” or circumstance.
At the end of the day the pure good spirit that was my dad still emerges from time to time; and he let’s me know that he appreciates my efforts. That is reward enough. Though I still can’t get used to changing his diapers; oh well no one is perfect I imagine.
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Hi, I've been where you're at now. Fortunately, my mom is relatively stable right now. She got to a point last fall where she could not find the bathroom in her assisted living apartment, and she was wandering down the hall to the dining room and sitting on a chair to "potty". Recognizing that the staff at the assisted living were not going to tolerate this for very long, and it wasn't safe for her anyhow, as a last resort, I had her admitted to a geriatric psych ward in a (relatively) local hospital. I was very hesitant to do this, but didn't know what else to do. I had all sorts of preconceptions regarding this stay--after all, my mom was just confused, she wasn't "insane" or whatever....but there they were able to observe her closely to see what she was really having problems with, and we also learned that two of the medications she was on were not well tolerated by elderly people, and were probably contributing to her behaviors.
She stayed there for about 2 weeks. The staff were so attentive and caring that I wished she could stay forever. And when she came home, things were unbelievably better. No more wandering, she knows where the bathroom is, and she sleeps through the night. She is still in her assisted living apartment. Nobody who worked there last fall (prior to her hospital stay) can believe how good she's doing.
I'm not trying to really give you advice (ok, maybe a little), but you mentioned the doctor(s) being patronizing, etc., and I wonder if maybe they (like my mom's doctors) don't know as much as they think they do about elderly people.
No matter what though, you are doing an amazing thing for your Dad. My mom moved into the assisted living when she was very early in the disease, and she absolutely refused to live with my brother or with me. I'd like to be able to do what you're doing, but with all the other things going on in my household, it's not realistic. But I envy you and admire you--I know you'll never regret taking this journey with your father.
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