Epic Fail

My recent visit to Arizona left me feeling like a failure. The whole purpose of this visit was to help my parents work through the new reality of dementia, but my father resisted my help every step of the way. Here we are at the Neurologist filling out the paperwork for a brain MRI. He allowed me to fill it out since his hands shake so bad, and it is hard to read his writing. However, he made my mom switch chairs so he could watch me fill it out. We won't know the results for a couple of weeks, but one thing we do know is that there is something wrong. My mother has difficulty with the simplest of activities. While helping her shower this week, I put shampoo in her hand and she used it like body wash even though I had just told her to shampoo her hair. She no longer cooks or cleans, but she does set the table. If I go into the kitchen to do anything, she starts setting the table. She moves things around and constantly asks if something belongs to me. Things come up missing and my dad says "The elves moved it".





Today, I turned around and she was struggling with the skillet that we had just washed. I asked her what she was doing, but when I stepped around her, I saw what she was doing.





She was putting the strainer on the handle. I'm not sure if she thought it was the cord or what. A lot of these kinds of activities are happening.





The funny thing about this is that it actually fit on there tight and I'm not sure how she actually got it on there.





The next day, Marlin & I spent the day looking for information for help for my folks. We found a community center where they can participate in congregate meals, but my dad wasn't interested. We found a lady that will cook meals by the week and he wasn't interested in that option either. I talked to him about getting someone in to clean, and help my mom with her shower & washing her hair, but he said he could do it himself, but it isn't getting done. They wear the same clothes six days in a row and think that is okay. Their clothes are stained and dirty, but they don't seem to notice. He washes the breakfast dishes by rinsing them with water, then he dries them with a hand towel that they have used to wipe off the counters, your hands, and who knows what germ laden surfaces. When I called him out on it, he didn't understand why his method of washing the dishes wasn't adequate. Managing my mother's medications has been a challenge. He did let me prepare a list that he can go by so he doesn't forget, but he stands over the list and the calendar for the longest time each day making sure that he is doing it right.





My father is a proud man. He was a Chief Master Sargent in the United States Air Force. He is used to telling other people what to do so it is understandable why he is resistant to others suggestions, but it doesn't lessen the pain for me. My parents have forgotten my birthday for the past two years... no card, no call, no recognition that the day of my birth even mattered. Although I saw this coming at least four years ago when my dad was still in denial, forgetting my birthday was painful for me. Birthdays were always a big deal for my mom so when they forgot my birthday the first time, I chalked it up to her fading memory. Just one more step toward the day when she no longer knows me.





My father, on the other hand, is dealing with a loss of his own. His wife and best friend is no longer the woman he married. He can't "fix it" like he did when she had a brain tumor in 1954. He's still looking for the magic pill and there isn't one that will fix this. He now carries all the responsibility that a couple should carry together, and he is overwhelmed. Accepting help would mean he would have to accept that fact, and he is not willing...





I probably shouldn't be writing about this in an open forum, but it helps to write about it, and I hope that my experiences help anyone else that might read the words that flow from my pain. It is hard living so far away and not being able to help so I sacrificed to fly to Arizona for Thanksgiving & Christmas because I truly thought I could help. I still struggle with being a failure where my father is concerned, but I know that I have to step back and allow him to chart his own path. In the end, the only way I can help is to pray. I pray that my father comes to the realization that there is no shame in accepting help from others, especially his daughter. I pray that someday he will understand that he is not the only one who is losing something. I am losing my mother. For now, she still knows me, and that is going to have to be enough.


2 Corinthians 4: 16-18 (The Message): So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever.