Thoughts on the Diagnosis--Sherry's Story

A few days ago I visited Dad and found him in good spirits.  He looked down sideways at me with a big grin and said, "Brat!"  "Oh, so I'm a brat today!" I quipped back with a small laugh.  He looked back at me with another big grin.  This was a good day today - I'll take it!

When Dad was first diagnosed, I had a lot of mixed feelings, too many to put into words, or to explain to anyone.  Even now, it would cause way too much room for misunderstanding and misinterpretation to share.  I think my part of sharing my emotions must be the side of assuring others that sometimes it's too hard to share those emotions, and that's okay.

It's not healthy to keep things bottled up inside; it's actually good to find someone you can feel comfortable talking to.  I've had a few friends who have gone through this experience, so it has been nice to ask them questions or ask what they advise or have experienced.  

My dad came from a background where people don't have the maturity to say "I'm sorry" or "I love you".  Dad used to emphasize how important it was to "show" love or apologies - that's hard to do 750 miles apart!  But I think the lesson in that is the importance of finding ways to show our love through different avenues.

My connection of this with sharing our emotions with others, is the fact that sometimes your emotions are difficult to share, so if you have difficulty putting your feelings into words, please look for a positive way to express yourself.  People often think when visiting someone they have to verbally speak, or they haven't communicated.  That's not so.  My Dad, the once-great communicator of all time, now prefers not much noise or commotion at all, and even laughter, his once-great fuel, is no longer welcomed, but questioned by him. 

Now, visits consist of sitting next to him as I hold his hand, rub his arm, or rub his back or shoulder.  Other times, I may help feed my own father at a meal should he need assistance. Most visits consist of walking or pacing up and down the halls, because his disease won't let him realize when he needs rest.  He doesn't need, or want conversation now, but I feel the need to at least spend some time with him when I can.  We can't all show our love in the same way, but if you find a way that allows you time with your loved one, then find your "niche," and don't worry what others think.

As their minds slowly disappear into some unknown abyss, you learn to take what you can get for a good day.  One day, I went by to visit him, he looked at me, then looked at one of the workers, grinned, and said, "Oh look, my daughter came to visit me!  How Nice!"  I thought, "How wonderful!  Dad must be having a great day!   He even recognized me!"  Then slowly he turned back in his full grin and said, "This is my daughter, Kerry!"  Ah, close enough!  I decided to take what I was given!  It's still a good day!