Living in the Moment

Visiting Dad can be a challenge. We live in the present, past, and future. Dad lives in the present. Consequently the challenge with visiting Dad, at this stage of his dementia progression, is communicating in the present. Questions that begin with, “Do you remember…” will only be answered in the context of what is currently in his present, his moment.

Conversation tends to be a series of statements acknowledging what is happening at that moment: someone passing by, a commercial on the television, the food he is eating, and so on. He doesn't know if the person who passed by is a nurse, visitor, or other resident. He doesn't what program was on prior to the commercial and he doesn't know if he is eating lunch or dinner.

When Shelley and I visited Dad yesterday, early evening on Sunday, he was sitting in the dining room waiting for dinner to be served. However, he didn't realize it was 20 minutes before he would get his dinner. He just sat at the table and focused his attention on the green cloth napkins placed on the table. He would count them, “there’s one, there’s another, see (pointing) one, two, three, four…” then repeat what he just said.

Our visit with Dad and the Green Napkin

Then his attention shifted to another resident sitting to his left, a young man who was trying to put a button into a buttonhole, but there was no button. The young man voiced frustration. Dad responded with, “Are you alright?” Dad repeated his question and a few seconds later the young man responded and Dad just watched him. Then he noticed the napkins again and said, “Look at that.” Then the counting began again.

When I visit Dad, I must look at life differently. I must focus on his present moment and that is not easy to do. I want to ask him so many questions, I want us to talk like we did years ago; I want him to confirm that he is alright.

Communicating with my Dad in his moment has taught me valuable life lessons:

• Every moment of our lives is valuable
• Keep life simple
• Be aware of what is happening “in the moment”
• Genuinely communicate with your loved ones

I treasure each visit and our “in the moment” conversations. I know than one day he will not be able to speak and we will have to learn to communicate by reading each other eyes. But until then, I will deal with one challenge at a time.

Photos of Dad in "His Moments"

(These photos were taken over several visits in September)

Ups & Downs with Dad

I have been blogging about my Dad’s struggle with Alzheimer’s for four years now. My primary objective for the blog is to keep friends and family informed. However, over the past four years the blog has revealed a pattern of ups and downs (versus a pattern of steady decline).

This patter of ups and downs can be deceiving. We know there is no cure for Alzheimer’s yet this pattern of ups and downs gives us a glimmer of hope. There are days when he seems coherent and can carry a conversation (a definite up) but you can walk out the door and return in a few minutes and he has no recollection of your being there already (a downer).

The same pattern is revealed in his health. Back in June, Dad had an infection on his toe, which caused great concern. If the infection didn’t clear up there was a possibility of an amputation especially since there is poor circulation in his foot and leg. The doctor put him on antibiotics for 14 days. If the infection did not clear up after 14 days then we would have been faced with the decision of the amputation. All things considering, the situation did not look good.

Then after the 14 days of his taking the antibiotics showed the infection had gotten under control and now he is doing much better. His toe is still kept in a dry bandage as a scab has formed and should drop off soon; a good sign that the toe is healing.

Visiting Dad also demonstrates the ups and downs. Usually he’s sleeping when we arrive, regardless of the time of day. Some days he is dressed and sitting in his wheelchair. One visit in July had Dad in a very bad mood, so bad that the visit only lasted about 5 minutes. It was very depressing.

Recently, however, Dad was in a good mood on a special day when Bruce, his “middle child,” came for a visit from Southern California with his wife Bonnie, her sister Sheryl and husband Paul.

During the visit, Bruce and I attempted to call Joyce but she didn’t answer. As siblings do, we wanted to play a trick on her by having Bruce call instead of me as she expects. Well, after two attempts by Bruce and one by me, we realized we didn’t a message. When she finally checked her phone and saw missed calls from both her brothers, well, yes, she panicked. After reassuring her all was well she spoke with Dad.

 

Bruce's visit with Dad on August 9, 2014.

Yesterday was the regular Care Meeting at the nursing home where the staff gives the family an official update on Dad’s condition. Shelley and I were unable to attend but Tabitha and Venice attended. Tabitha then recapped the meeting for me saying that Dad’s weight is holding steady at 132 lbs, he is eating well (approximately 75% of his food), he usually eats breakfast in bed but then has lunch and dinner in the dining room.

So the pattern of ups and downs continues. Till next time! 

"The Things They Make Me Do!"

Dad has never been one for following orders; he's more inclined to give them. Living in a care facility with dementia means being told what to do most of the time and in Dad's case he'll let you know he is not happy with the things he is made to do.

For instance on our visit on Friday, May 16, Dad was seated in the main dining room where many of the residents were participating in various activities designed for engagement. And there was Dad, sitting in his chair, fast asleep ("I'll show them..."). In fact most of the residents sitting on the side of the room Dad was in were all asleep, while on the other side, the group was wide awake and participating in the activity.

The staff member leading the activity was having the group spell out words with a Hawaiian theme. She asked the group to spell coconut, then to spell Honolulu, then luau. One resident yelled out, L U "OW." The group laughed, Dad did not. We encourage Dad to participate but we got "the look" instead.

Here are three photos taken during the activity. Note "the look" on Dad's face:

"I don't want to be here."

"Good, he's leaving."

"I want to go back to sleep!"

The top photo is me with my daughter, Tabitha, and my granddaughter, Venice, standing behind my Dad (Shelley took the photos). Notice the look he gave me when I walked away. That's the way that visit with Dad turned out to be and I believe through the whole visit and activity he was thinking, "The things they make me do!"

The State of Dad's Condition
Our visit on May 16 was after we had meet with Sherry, one of the staff's directors, to review Dad's overall condition since our last "care" meeting. Sherry told us that Dad is up most days, he is eating in the dining room more, instead of his room, and likes to have his back rubbed. He is eating well and maintaining a weight of 137 lbs.

Even though Dad was in a bad mood that Friday by Sunday, when I visited him again, he was in a much better mood. He was able to speak briefly with his daughter, Joyce, in San Antonio, while I held my cell phone for him.

The "Oh Boy" Phone Call
On another visit back on April 18, Dad spoke with his son Bruce, who lives in Southern California. During that call the phrase, "Oh Boy" seemed lead every comment each of us made or was part of a response to a question. Between the three of us, we probably uttered "oh boy" at least eight times!

That's all for this update; thanks for reading!

Dad Logic: "I see two feet, one on each foot."

After a month of seemingly endless illnesses, Shelley and I finally were able to visit Dad today. Today is a beautiful spring day so we to back roads to the nursing home. The pastures and vineyards are green and filled with colorful wildflowers. When we arrived, we found Dad sitting in the main dining room with other residents watching television.

I wheeled him out so we could visit at our usual spot and talk. He seemed to be in a good mood, was talkative and laughed with us. I called Joyce, his daughter, so they could talk. When Joyce asked, "Who is there with you?" He answered, "Him and Her."  (Dad logic).

His back was itching so Shelley wheeled him over to the nurses station to see if they could put some cream to help ease the itching. Meanwhile, I finished the conversation with Joyce.

We sat with Dad as he looked out the large picture window watching cars drive by. He kept saying, "Look at that! There goes another! Yes Sir...oh, God...there goes another!" He stayed fixated on the cars going back and forth until I wheeled him around the facility. When we arrived back at the same spot, I positioned the wheelchair to face the courtyard instead of the street. So there we sat looking out at the courtyard. Then Dad raised his legs and told us to look at his feet. I asked, "What do you see?" He responded, "I see two feet, one on each foot." Can't argue with that!

Dad looking out the window at cars zooming by.

Dad's view of the street.

Shelley capturing our moments.

Dad, now facing the courtyard.

Our feet, one on each foot!

Taking a selfie.

Family Visits with Dad - Then & Now

Yes, I know, another blog update. This one, however, features family visits with Dad (in-person or by phone) within the last 30 days. One set of photos were taken at his nursing home recently and the "older" photos are probably how Dad may see us in his mind.

Granddaughter Tabitha, her husband Kevin,
and great-granddaughter Venice

Kevin, Tabitha & Dad 2006 in San Antonio

Joeann holding phone with her Dad,
Joe, talking to his brother, my Dad

Uncle Joe - way back in the day

Dad with niece Joeann, husband Miguel,
and daughters Maya & Emma

Me talking with Dad

Tabitha, holding her daughter Venice,
speaking with Dad

Shelley, Tabitha & Me - 1977

Me holding phone so Joyce can hear Dad's voice

Joyce many, many, many years ago

Joeann holding phone with her sister
Brenda on the line in San Antonio

Joeann, Laura & Brenda

Everyone watching Dad talking to his brother Joe

Fading Memories

One of the benefits of aging is having collected a lifetime of wonderful memories that make us smile or laugh at the things we no longer do. However, as we age our memories begin to fade or they just don't come to mind as they once did. Fading memories accelerate when a loved one is in the grips of Alzheimer's. Witnessing a loved one's memories fade is tragic and sobering. We realize it could happen to us.

Here are some of my Dad's memories of times gone by:

My Dad with his parents walking in downtown San Antonio, Texas in the late 1930s.

Here is a photo of Dad taken in 1968 when he played for the San Antonians,
a softball team that toured New Zealand in February of that year. 

Dad and Joyce. Can you tell what year it is by the hairstyles and glasses?

Dad had this studio photo taken in the early 80s.

Here is Dad today. His memories are the "here and now" with "bits and pieces" of the past.