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!