Celebrating Dad

Dad had a pretty big weekend - his birthday AND Father's Day! Dad, Mom, Lindsey, Dave, Caitlin, Dominic (the baby that Dad's "intuition" predicted is now 6 weeks old), and I had a delicious and fun happy hour at Willows Lodge on Friday night, entertained by Caitlin's dancing and followed by birthday cake. Father's Day was spent at church, a father-daughter Starbucks date, and a classic car show.

I feel so blessed to have such a loving dad and will, eventually, write a blog post solely to that point. In the meantime, here are some pictures from the weekend. Dad didn't always remember that he was the star of the weekend, but he seemed pretty happy. That's what it's all about.

 

 

 

Helping Grandpa unwrap his gifts

Dancing!

 

Dominic loved celebrating too

 

The ski cake was a hit

 

Dad and one of his dream cars - a 1956 Chevy Nomad

 

 Thanks for being here!

 

 

 

Funny Valentine

We all know how annoying it is to see Christmas decorations in the stores as soon as the Halloween goodies are put away for the year (or even alongside them). Imagine what it is like for someone who has no orientation to time. Dad is constantly pulling out his cell phone to check the date and time – and is especially confused when he sees red and green in the stores only to pull his phone out and find out it is October. He is more concerned now than he has ever been about holidays. (This is the guy who once bought an anniversary card – probably at the urging of my sister and me – and gave it to Mom unsigned.) As soon as he sees the decorations, I can anticipate the next questions: “What are we doing for [fill in the holiday here]? Have I gotten your mom anything?” And so, every major holiday means that a Tuesday is filled with shopping for mom. As we know, Dad likes shopping. J

Of course, I am not the only caregiver who has these conversations with Dad. This means that, often, mom gets, in the very least, two cards for every holiday.  Well, technically, she hasn’t received all of them yet. You see, with the best of intentions, Dad “hides” the cards when he gets them home from the store so that mom cannot find them. Well, he can’t find them when we call to remind him to give the card to her. Even if I help him hide the card so that I will know where to find it later, he moves it. The first Valentine’s Day after his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I took Dad to the drug store to pick out a card for Mom. After a lot of consideration, he finally found one. We bought it, took it home and Dad “hid” it. When I called him on Valentine’s to remind him to sign it and give it to Mom, he said that he already had. I found out later that it was another card that Dad had bought with my great-aunt and uncle. The card that he had picked out with me was nowhere to be found.

This has happened for pretty much every holiday. (Fortunately, I always keep any gifts at my house.) This year, it was status quo for Valentine’s – Mom received a card, but not the one Dad had picked out with me. Thank goodness for such thoughtful caregivers! A month or so after the holiday, I got a text message from Mom saying that she had just found a Valentine’s card buried in the back of Dad’s closet. We both had a good laugh about it. Hey – why shouldn’t every day be Valentine’s Day?

Like everything about this terrible disease, we hope that there is a purpose and plan at work here. I think that God’s intent for the holiday cards going MIA is that, eventually, Dad will not be able to pick out a card for Mom and maybe the cards will be found then. In the meantime, maybe some will be found on the especially rough days of caretaking, when Mom just needs a reminder that she is loved, thought about, and that she will one day be rewarded for upholding the vow “in sickness and health.”

Thanks for being here!

Dad and his Valentine

 

The Ugly Coat

Last year, my brother-in-law invited my dad to a couple of Seahawks games with his season tickets. Because all of my dad’s coats were black wool, leather, or suede, my mom thought a new, warm, machine-washable raincoat with a hood (preferably in an easy-to-see color for the ever-wandering Dad) was in order. Clearly, this involved a trip to the mall. Now, I have to say, that, after spending plenty of years in malls with his lovely daughters, I am fairly sure that my dad likes shopping more than any of his “girls.” And he is definitely the slowest shopper out of all of us – and the day of coat shopping was no exception. Two hours at Sears where he spent the whole time rejecting every coat that mom and I picked out (although I must admit that we showed him the same coats several times) and kept going back to black leather or suede jackets. Rain coats were for “sissies” and there was “no way” he was going to wear a red, blue, or green jacket. This from the guy who spent many of my childhood years wearing a pink polo shirt or Hawaiian board shorts and shirts. Such a fan of color – and quite a fashion statement! Finally, we convinced him to “choose” a blue raincoat with a fleece lining. Mom and I thought it was a good purchase, but Dad was not having it. Every time he opened the coat closet to get a jacket out last fall/winter, he would loudly proclaim “whose ugly coat is this?” Every single time! And he had no interest at all wearing it to the Seahawks games, even when we convinced him it was the right color. He did wear the “ugly coat” to all of the games though. Mom is very persuasive. What a relief when spring came and the coat was no longer an issue for a while.

I wasn’t sure what would happen this past fall when it got cold and wet enough to don a raincoat. The first time I took it out of the closet for him to wear, on cue, he exclaimed “not that ugly thing!” I had to smile and let him choose his own coat. The next week, I just asked him to get a coat out of the closet – something warm and waterproof. When he picked the blue raincoat, I had to giggle. Reverse psychology? Actually, he chose that coat out of the closet for most of this past winter. He still occasionally calls it the “ugly coat” but wears it without complaint. So… if you ever want to take him to a Seahawks game, he is ready to go!

 

Dad in his "ugly coat" at Snoqualmie Pass

 

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

I hope that this year is off to a great start for everyone. Thought I would begin 2013 with an overview of highlights from 2012.

Our family started last year with Dad having surgery for a detached retina – in the middle of a snow and ice storm. It was quite an adventure getting to and from the hospital and the follow-up appointments (and I have vowed that my next car will have all-wheel drive!), but Dad was a real trooper through it all. My favorite conversation with him during this time went like this:

Dad: “So what would happen if I don’t have the surgery?”
Me: “Then you will go blind.”
Dad (without missing a beat): “Then at least I could get a dog.” 

Gotta love that his sense of humor is still intact! The surgery was successful. He still doesn’t have much vision in his right eye, but he compensates well.

Merv and Dad celebrated their 300^th chess game last year by a trip to Costco for mocha freeze drinks. A dear family friend, Merv is our super-dedicated Wednesday volunteer. He also helps out one night a month so that Mom can go to an Alzheimer’s caregiver support meeting. Dad always looks forward to Wednesdays with “Mr. Montacute” and intently studies chess books for strategies with which to win.

Dad, Susan, and Merv Montacute

 In the spring, I took Dad to get his first pedicure. I wasn’t sure what he would think of the experience, but he loved it! The ladies at InSpa were really sweet with him (they thought it was especially cute when he fell asleep soaking his feet) and he left saying that his feet were “smiling.” He now has a monthly pedicure date.

We went to the LeMay Car Museum to celebrate Dad’s birthday. He took lots of pictures of the 1930 Packard Roadster. I learned that he had helped his father restore a car like this when he was a kid. As Dad lives more and more in the past, we are learning things about his childhood that we never knew (like that he and his mother used to play a lot of chess when he was a kid) - an unexpected gift in this situation! At the museum, he also got to drive a race car simulator.

1930 Packard Roadster

Dad in the race car simulator

In August, Lindsey, Dave, and I hosted a Caregiver Thank You Party for everyone who helps out with Dad’s care. It was a beautiful day and everyone had a good time. Dad, of course, thanked everyone for being there. J

Other highlights of 2012:

Many trips to the arboretum, parks, the beach and picnics

At least weekly trips to Costco

Weekend get-aways to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, Poulsbo, and Long Beach

Quiet-yet-fun Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays spent being entertained by Miss Caitlin’s antics and tricks

Dad and Caitlin deep in conversation

We look forward to welcoming a new baby boy into the family this spring, witnessing what God has in store for Mom as her job at PeaceHealth ends in April, and seeing what else 2013 brings.

Happy New Year from our family to your’s! Thanks for being here!

 

A Father's Intuition

Every Tuesday is my day with Dad. I usually try to think of something to do that will keep us both entertained and out of trouble - a picnic at the lake, a trip to a museum (the LeMay Car Museum was a hit!), a walk around Green Lake, etc... There is always food involved and often a stop at Costco (have I mentioned that this is Dad's favorite place?). :-) It is a bit trickier to find things to do in the fall and winter, especially on rainy days. And, yes, we are in the Pacific NW. [Insert rain joke here]

Three weeks ago, it was pouring down rain, so I decided that we were going to the mall for lunch and a walk indoors. As we were driving, Dad asked, "Is Lindsey [my sister] pregnant?"  I didn't think much of it because he often asks random questions.

I looked over at him and replied," Not that I know of."

"Oh. That's good. Their house isn't big enough for two babies," he answered, referring to my sister's one-year-old daughter (who is absolutely the sweetest little girl ever!).

"Um, yeah," I said absent-mindedly, focusing on driving in the midst of the downpour.

Less than an hour later we were settled at a table in the mall eating our lunches when he asked again. "Is Lindsey pregnant?"

"I don't think so, but you have asked me twice now."

"I have?" bewilderment written on his face.

"Yes, so maybe I will just send Lindsey a text and ask her. So there is no question."

I get out my phone and type: "Are you pregnant? Dad keeps asking."

I expect a reply of "LOL. Crazy Dad!" But nothing comes. A little while later, while Dad and I are rummaging around in the bookstore, Lindsey calls and says, "Mom said that he wouldn't remember!"

I laugh. "So you are pregnant? That's so exciting!" Meanwhile, Dad is standing there, hearing my side of the conversation, nodding and grinning. "You weren't supposed to say anything," I tease him.

He looks at me shocked. "No one told me she was pregnant. I swear. It was a father's intuition." I throw him a skeptical glance. "Really! I swear! Father's intuition." He is so earnest, I cannot help but smile and nod. He truly believes that he just "knew" of this second grandbaby.

I chat with Lindsey a bit longer and then ask if they are going to find out if the baby is a boy or girl. Dad is still standing there, listening carefully to my side of the conversation. "I haven't decided yet," he says, with complete seriousness. Oh boy - this is too much! He believes that his "father's intuition" told him about the baby and that he also gets to choose its sex. I am attempting to giggle quietly (we are in the bookstore after all!), but it is not working very well.

For the rest of the afternoon, he repeats the mantra "No one told me. I just knew" countless times. Every time, I just smile, laugh, and nod. How can I be anything less than joyful when there is going to be a new little member of the family - and a proud grandpa just waiting to welcome him/her into the world?

Thanks for being here!

Getting started

Starting a blog detailing our family's journey with Alzheimer's is something that I have wanted to do for a long time. My dad woke up the morning of November 15, 2010 completely confused. He did not know where he was, what he did for a living, how many children he has, or that his parents and brother are deceased. After a short stay in the hospital (diagnosis: sinus infection, cellulitis, and Transient Global Amnesia) and months of doctor's appointments and numerous tests, he was diagnosed with young-onset Alzheimer's disease at the age of 59. Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and, looking back, we see that he had been showing signs of memory loss for several years before the diagnosis. We had chalked the "not listening" and mood swings up to a mid-life crisis. The pieces came together when we knew the truth, but it was devastating.

Dad and me at my Preschool Father's Day Party (1985)

 

Suddenly, my once hard-working Dad was forced to quit his job as a truck driver and was no longer able to drive at all. Dad has always been a bit of a soft-hearted guy (guess having two daughters does that to a man!), but I had not seen my Dad weep until his beloved Chevy Silverado truck was sold. It was as if all of the frustrations and limitations of his diagnosis came flooding out at once. I also wept on my drive home from my parents' house that night. It wasn't the first time since Alzheimer's took over our lives - and not the last either.

Grief invaded our family. Dad grieved his life of independence and his place as supporter of the family. It wouldn't be fair of me to put the thoughts and feelings of my family members into words, but I know well the things I deeply grieved. Mostly the fact that my future husband and children would not know my Dad as he was. Selfishly, I grieved my former care-free young-adult life where I did not have to worry about how best to care for my parents at this time. That was something that was supposed to come much, much later in life.  It is said that the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The first four "stages" resulted in a mismash of emotions for the first year after the diagnosis - for everyone in our family. I think Dad was probably the first one to come to some sort of acceptance, mostly because his complete lack of short-term memory forced him to live in the moment. Literally. How can you be upset for long when you don't remember why you were mad in the first place? Life is too short. Of course, he still gets angry and frustrated every once in a while, but, overall, he is a happy and sociable guy.

The rest of us are slowly coming to terms with the "new normal" too. We have a great team of family members and dear friends who have rallied with us to make sure that Dad is safe and happy during the weekdays when Mom is at work. He actually has more of a social life than the rest of us and he loves every minute that he is with people - especially when they take him to Costco for lunch! :-) For the most part, Dad still knows his family and friends, particularly those he sees regularly. Plus, almost everyone is a friend to him - from the sales associate at Home Depot to the artisan at the neighborhood farmer's market. He will strike up a conversation with anyone!

Note left on my pillow by Dad when I stayed overnight at my parents' house last week.

 

Which brings me to why I have titled this blog as I have. For the first several months after his Alzheimer's diagnosis, my dad was constantly heard saying, "this sucks." And it did. Big time. Never one to be down for long, though, he would quickly follow it with, "thanks for being here!" These days, we no longer hear "this sucks," but the "thanks for being here" is repeated throughout the day to whoever will listen - his caregiver of the day, the organist at church, the guy behind the counter at Starbucks, etc... Genuine gratitude!  I am still working on my own ratio of "this sucks" and "thanks for being here"s, but I do have a pretty good role model to follow. Most people my age are blogging about their home-buying experiences, children, and family vacations - what is happening in their life at the moment. Something to keep for posterity. I am blogging about this experience for the same reason. When this phase of our family's life is over - we will have something to remember this time and the things we learned along the journey.

Thanks for being here!