OK, so maybe Mom can't handle the northern temperature anymore. Maybe. Or maybe Mom loves her friends where she is. But...these moms don't know who's sitting at the table half the time. I guaranty she'd pick a daughter or son over her housemate.
So I had dinner with Dad and we had turkey, dressing the whole nine yards, along with all the other residents who were in the same shape as Dad. We sat at the table with the man who stays in his room (except for occasional meals) and his daughter who generally lives in his room with him. We had a little chat. She thought it would be an improvement in Dad's quality of life if he were to be allowed to stand. All he wants to do is stand. I tried to keep an open mind. But, he also wants to walk out of the house, climb out the window, jump out of bed, dance, and anything else that lands him on the ground. I just nodded. I said we missed the window of opportunity because he couldn't be alert enough for rehab when the physical therapist was coming around, and the management of the house didn't want to incur the liability (and as an underwriter, I completely understand) by standing him up for "exercise." She volunteered to stand him up with me, one on each side. I know she means well. I have no doubt she is trying to help us. However, our dads are very very different guys. Her dad is not very demented and not trying to escape.
I also think that if Dad does a lot of standing, he will convince himself that he can safely stand, walk, etc., and then when he has another fall and has to be denied standing again or restrained further, isn't he just going to feel more defeated? Punished?
He's had a lot of agitation lately so they have doubled his Exelon. If they hadn't told me so, I wouldn't have picked up on it. He's not groggy. Other than when we took the video, he was somewhat talkative. Of course, the talk was about things like a horse race that had taken place in Galveston at American International where the riders were not given a bonus and he needed me to write a letter to the millionaire down there to make sure they got paid, and the four people from his home who were kidnapped this week, including him. When I asked whether the kidnappers fed him, he said, "Very well!" I'm getting better and better at just "going with it." When I cannot understand what he is saying (often the case) I just say "hmmm". Or "probably so." One of the things we learned in the dementia lecture the week before last was to avoid confrontation. To do that you don't say yes and don't say no. Say, "Tell me more about that, " or "I'll look into it," or "It's possible." And the lecturer was so so right. A day without confrontation over something like whether the green, blue, and red wires he's picking out of the turkey and dressing actually exist is an improvement over one with confrontation. When he then demanded that the caregiver get a paper towel and wipe all the wires out of his meal I just deflected, "Man, this cranberry sauce is unbelievable! Who made this??" Fight over. Dad's next words: "Best I've ever had."
The caregivers are good at making Dad feel special. They asked how he kept his weight off (given that they were both in the larger than life category). I said, "By chewing his food and spitting it out." He said he kept fit by working out a lot. Maybe he was thinking of the dancing he and mother used to do(?) The funny part is that these gals wait on him night and day. They know exactly how much he works out. He doesn't even use his arms to move the wheelchair. They laughed and conceded that he stayed "busy" (always fidgeting with something or struggling to get out of his chair.)
I picked out the movie Grease and the caregivers and I laughed all the way through. I sang along with the movie while working on an embroidered pillow. Dad wanted to go through my embroidery skeins (thinking they were candy) and he took out about ten from the bag, strewing them around the house. One of his sweet little housemates (periwinkle hair) asked me if I had a car. I said yes. She whispered that she wanted me to take her home. I said OK. I asked her if her house was in Dallas, to which she said, "Oh, we sold it." She would glance my way throughout the movie like, "Let me know when it's time to go." Dad asked me for Mom's number. I couldn't believe they weren't taking a big after-Thanksgiving-dinner nap. I'm afraid I got her hopes up about going home. Before I left, I noticed Dad was holding onto her wheelchair (still sitting in his own) as she was crossing the living room. They had a little train going. I don't know if she knew she had a passenger.
I hope everybody who reads my blog had a fantastic Thanksgiving. Mine was great. All I have to do is get out of the way and let it unfold.
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