*Phone rings*
Me: Hello.
Mom: Kerry, we met with your dad's doctor today. He has Alzheimer's. BUT, we're okay! This is the journey God has given us, and we will walk through it together. We just need to make lots of memories.
Me: I'm so sorry, mom. We'll talk soon. *uncontrollable tears*
That phone call will forever ring in my ears, and bring me to tears.
I was devastated.
After the changes we had witnessed in dad, I wasn't surprised with the diagnosis, but I had hope.
Hope that it would be something else. Anything else...but Alzheimer's.
In that moment, the hope was gone, and I knew what was to come. I had seen it before in my grandpa, my mom's step father. I could not bear the thought of it happening to my dad. I was only in my mid-thirties. My children are so young. Some of them will never remember their papa. It just doesn't seem fair. He is too young.
I had a couple of fears.
One: I feared that my dad's temper, from my childhood years, would return.
Two: I feared the day that my dad would no longer know me.
Both of those fears have come true.
I called my mom nearly every day of the week to check on her and dad. I asked her numerous times if his temper had returned. After dad was diagnosed and put on medication, her answer was always the same, "He is as sweet as can be!" But, in the Summer of 2013 that changed. Suddenly, almost overnight, the paranoia and delusions that doctor's told us would eventually come, fiercely came to her life...to our lives. He accused us kids of stealing his money, and house, and jeep, and within a few weeks he began accusing my mom of cheating on him. It is not his fault. It is not his fault. It is the fault of this living nightmare that is embracing him...the one our entire family wishes to awake from. It is this horrible disease called ... "Alzheimer's."
It has stolen my dad from our family.
It has stolen him from his wife of over 48 years.
It has stolen him from his grandkids who, once upon a time, he adored.
The other fear, the one when my dad would no longer know me, came true a little over a year later. It was October of 2013. I had come into town to run a 5K with Danny, and his family, and Dana. The following day we had plans to pick up dad at his Memory Care facility and participate in our first Walk for Alzheimer's. (For me, the walk was completely depressing. I fought tears the entire time. I didn't want to be surrounded by people who had Alzheimer's. I didn't want to be surrounded by people who were grieving like me. It was too hard. If it weren't for my cousin, Sam, walking alongside me and talking to me, I probably would have left.) I went to the facility with my mom and my baby, Ligon, to pick up my dad. When he saw me, he smiled. One of his caregivers said, "Dan, who is this beautiful girl and baby who came to see you?" Again, he smiled big and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." I was crushed. It was a new level of grief due to this disease. Alzheimer's was an even more reviled enemy than before. It was winning. I was losing...my dad. I was no longer his "baby girl." I was a stranger.
The following April, my kids and I made the trip back to Kansas to see my mom and dad. I had prayed for months that God would give me a lucid moment with my dad, and that, if even for a moment, that he would know who I was and call me by name. God answered to my heart's desire! When I first walked in, my dad shuffled around the corner, and looked up. He smiled and walked over to me. He said, "You look really familiar." My heart sunk, but I introduced myself and took him to his room to put his shoes on. As I was getting his shoes out of his closet, he smiled and slapped his leg and said, "I know you! I know who you are! I am so sorry! Wow! I am so glad you're here!" I grabbed him and hugged as tight and as long as he would allow, with tears in my eyes. I sat him in a chair and got down on my knees to put his shoes on. He looked down at me and said, "Boy, you are such a beautiful girl! I can't believe you're here." That is a memory I will treasure forever!
When I left my dad that day, and got into my car, I called my husband and told him what happened. I said, "If that is the only good visit I get this time...I'll take it!" Sadly, it was the only "good" visit that week. The rest of the week he was highly agitated, and I will admit that I was a little fearful of him at every visit. Before going to see him the last time during that visit, I prayed, "God, please let me leave him in peace." Again, God answered in a wonderful way. My dad was peacefully sleeping in a chair when I left him.
A few months ago, I went back to Kansas to see my dad and mom again. I fear Winter's for my dad's health, and want every chance I can get to spend time with him. My visit's with him were very hard, and sad. The light in his eyes is completely gone. At times, his eyes are so glazed over that I'm not sure he can even see where he is walking. My visits were filled with holding his hand while he paced the hallway. He is still paranoid. He is still delusional. He still has hallucinations.
It's almost like he isn't even my dad anymore...he is Alzheimer's. I miss my dad.
Many nights I cry myself to sleep while I pray that God would allow my dad to sleep. Sometimes, sleep doesn't come to him for three to four days at a time. I pray that God will take my dad soon, so he can finally be at peace. As hard as it would be to say a final goodbye, it is an earthly goodbye. Heaven will be sweet! I will get to have my earthly father, and my Heavenly Father in one place! My dad will be free!
Me: Hello.
Mom: Kerry, we met with your dad's doctor today. He has Alzheimer's. BUT, we're okay! This is the journey God has given us, and we will walk through it together. We just need to make lots of memories.
Me: I'm so sorry, mom. We'll talk soon. *uncontrollable tears*
That phone call will forever ring in my ears, and bring me to tears.
I was devastated.
After the changes we had witnessed in dad, I wasn't surprised with the diagnosis, but I had hope.
Hope that it would be something else. Anything else...but Alzheimer's.
In that moment, the hope was gone, and I knew what was to come. I had seen it before in my grandpa, my mom's step father. I could not bear the thought of it happening to my dad. I was only in my mid-thirties. My children are so young. Some of them will never remember their papa. It just doesn't seem fair. He is too young.
I had a couple of fears.
One: I feared that my dad's temper, from my childhood years, would return.
Two: I feared the day that my dad would no longer know me.
Both of those fears have come true.
I called my mom nearly every day of the week to check on her and dad. I asked her numerous times if his temper had returned. After dad was diagnosed and put on medication, her answer was always the same, "He is as sweet as can be!" But, in the Summer of 2013 that changed. Suddenly, almost overnight, the paranoia and delusions that doctor's told us would eventually come, fiercely came to her life...to our lives. He accused us kids of stealing his money, and house, and jeep, and within a few weeks he began accusing my mom of cheating on him. It is not his fault. It is not his fault. It is the fault of this living nightmare that is embracing him...the one our entire family wishes to awake from. It is this horrible disease called ... "Alzheimer's."
It has stolen my dad from our family.
It has stolen him from his wife of over 48 years.
It has stolen him from his grandkids who, once upon a time, he adored.
The other fear, the one when my dad would no longer know me, came true a little over a year later. It was October of 2013. I had come into town to run a 5K with Danny, and his family, and Dana. The following day we had plans to pick up dad at his Memory Care facility and participate in our first Walk for Alzheimer's. (For me, the walk was completely depressing. I fought tears the entire time. I didn't want to be surrounded by people who had Alzheimer's. I didn't want to be surrounded by people who were grieving like me. It was too hard. If it weren't for my cousin, Sam, walking alongside me and talking to me, I probably would have left.) I went to the facility with my mom and my baby, Ligon, to pick up my dad. When he saw me, he smiled. One of his caregivers said, "Dan, who is this beautiful girl and baby who came to see you?" Again, he smiled big and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." I was crushed. It was a new level of grief due to this disease. Alzheimer's was an even more reviled enemy than before. It was winning. I was losing...my dad. I was no longer his "baby girl." I was a stranger.
The following April, my kids and I made the trip back to Kansas to see my mom and dad. I had prayed for months that God would give me a lucid moment with my dad, and that, if even for a moment, that he would know who I was and call me by name. God answered to my heart's desire! When I first walked in, my dad shuffled around the corner, and looked up. He smiled and walked over to me. He said, "You look really familiar." My heart sunk, but I introduced myself and took him to his room to put his shoes on. As I was getting his shoes out of his closet, he smiled and slapped his leg and said, "I know you! I know who you are! I am so sorry! Wow! I am so glad you're here!" I grabbed him and hugged as tight and as long as he would allow, with tears in my eyes. I sat him in a chair and got down on my knees to put his shoes on. He looked down at me and said, "Boy, you are such a beautiful girl! I can't believe you're here." That is a memory I will treasure forever!
When I left my dad that day, and got into my car, I called my husband and told him what happened. I said, "If that is the only good visit I get this time...I'll take it!" Sadly, it was the only "good" visit that week. The rest of the week he was highly agitated, and I will admit that I was a little fearful of him at every visit. Before going to see him the last time during that visit, I prayed, "God, please let me leave him in peace." Again, God answered in a wonderful way. My dad was peacefully sleeping in a chair when I left him.
A few months ago, I went back to Kansas to see my dad and mom again. I fear Winter's for my dad's health, and want every chance I can get to spend time with him. My visit's with him were very hard, and sad. The light in his eyes is completely gone. At times, his eyes are so glazed over that I'm not sure he can even see where he is walking. My visits were filled with holding his hand while he paced the hallway. He is still paranoid. He is still delusional. He still has hallucinations.
It's almost like he isn't even my dad anymore...he is Alzheimer's. I miss my dad.
Many nights I cry myself to sleep while I pray that God would allow my dad to sleep. Sometimes, sleep doesn't come to him for three to four days at a time. I pray that God will take my dad soon, so he can finally be at peace. As hard as it would be to say a final goodbye, it is an earthly goodbye. Heaven will be sweet! I will get to have my earthly father, and my Heavenly Father in one place! My dad will be free!
Thanks, Kerry, The posts from your family are heartbreaking and informative, but mostly loving. Having known your father for many years and enjoyed many times with him, playing softball, and just kidding around, it is tough to know what he and you are going through. We are praying for you and your family. God bless you.
ReplyDelete