For the past few years I have had many things to conquer. They served as distractions. Sometimes we just don't face things that are right in front of us. Denial is a beautiful and wicked thing. It gets confusing for me and my 86 year old father because I never know where the depression of a widower ends and the forgetfulness of an old man begins. They blur. Plus, he was always a little forgetful to begin with and has been the focus of many a teasing joke.
Tonight I will start to read "The 36-Hour Day". (A family guide to caring for persons with Alzheimer Disease, Related Dementing Illnesses, and Memory Loss.) This is all extra hard because I thought my mother and I would bounce back and forth with eye rolls and giggles to at least lighten the mood. I thought we would be a team of advocates for his needs. Turns out there is only me.
I know to be grateful each day because he is still quite lucid though the signs are building. I try to remain patient but it is one of the trickiest things I've ever had to contend with. I fear the day he forgets the big stuff. I dread the day he forgets me. I worry because he confuses children in photographs and calls my daughter by my nickname at times. His past is getting blurry. His today needs a steady reminder of the date and what we are all doing. As for his tomorrow...none of us will know until another sun finds us in the morning sky. I look back at my sweet memories to fuel me. I try to remember that it is my turn to take care of him. But the slow and steady loss is harder than any sudden loss. The man he is becoming is not the man I've known. This poses a conundrum. Just like everything else... I will face it one day at a time...even if I have to remind him of what day that might be.
No comments:
Post a Comment