A very different Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving sure did look different this year.  Wednesday, dad started a new medication that caused him to sleep for 48 hours straight.  One of the side effects is drowsiness, but with his other medications it made him extremely tired and he went into a coma like state.  We were worried, scared, and didn't know if dad would come out of it.  The nurses and doctor assured us that they were watching him around the clock and would call us right away if something changed.  We left thanksgiving afternoon feeling the sadness of it all, wishing we could go back to the previous thanksgivings spent together just one last time.  

I didnt sleep much at all Thursday into Friday morning.  I was too anxious, fearing at any moment I would be getting a phone call saying dad was not getting better.  But prayers were answered and Friday showed a turn around.  

When we arrived, the nurse was getting dad ready.  I was not 100% positive that he was any different than the days before,  but we waited at the end of the hallway hoping we would see him come out that door.  Minutes passed that seemed like a lifetime.  All of a sudden his door opened and he came out clutching the nurses arm, holding on for dear life.  He was clearly still very groggy, but he was up which was a blessing its self.  As soon as he saw mom, he smiled.  

It took awhile for him to wake up and get going but once he was able to eat some toast and drink some coffee, he started to come back.  His words were still very slurred ( after effects from the 48 hours of slumber) but he would give us a half smile and we knew he was improving.  

This picture of the 4 of us, may very well be the last picture we take as a family.  But it is a reminder of 4 people who are going through one of the hardest things they've ever faced, but still 100% showing up for one another.  So yes, a very different take on Thanksgiving this year, but also a pretty powerful one.  Reminding us not to take anything for granted and to hold on to one another.  Silver lining. 

Remember who you are

 

 Dad was very agitated.  I first noticed it as I walked into the room.  He was trying to remove one of his socks and was having a difficult time.  He was saying cuss words and you could see the agitation in his eyes.  After a brief greeting, he went back at trying to remove it.  He made many attempts but had no luck.  However, I noticed he was pulling on his pant leg, not his sock.  At one point I asked him if he would like for me to help him put his shoe back on with the hope that having the shoe on would make him forget about the sock.  He said that would be fine and as I kneeled down to put his foot in the shoe, he looked at me with “that look,” the one he used to give me growing up when I knew I overstepped the boundaries.  So I left the shoe and sat back down. 

 

We watched Family Feud for a bit.  At one point he got frustrated about the time it was taking for the contestant to answer the question.  He asked what was taking them so long.  Dennis laughed and said to “make it suspenseful Tony!”  Not long after that, I heard dad mumble “asshole” under his breath, hopeful it was towards Steve Harvey and not Dennis.  The visit continued with dad working very hard at trying to remove his socks and other shoe.  He kept saying something about the water and the rocks hurting his feet.  I have noticed that he has been very concerned lately about his feet and them being wet.  I remember growing up my dad never liked having wet socks.  I remember watching him put his socks on in the mornings before heading to work.  He would always sprinkle Gold Bond foot powder in the socks first.  Looking back now, I realize that dad probably hated wet feet because of his time in Vietnam, walking through all the water and muck.  Maybe his mind is back to that time, I thought.  He finally got the socks/other shoe off.  He pushed them off to the side and not even a second later, one of the aide’s came by and noticed his bare feet.  She bent down to help dad put them back on, but his agitation was clear and she backed off.  So instead she went and got him some gripper socks and he gladly allowed her to put those on. 

 

I hadn’t seen this much agitation from dad in a long time.  It seemed the longer we stayed, the more frustrated he got.  Almost like he was angry that we were there.  It sort of made me sad because my dad is not like that.  I know it is the disease and I can’t blame that on him or even take it personally.  As I sat there and continued to switch from watching dad to Steve Harvey I started to think about an incident the week prior where I let anger get the best of me.  And I don’t have Alzheimer’s to use as an excuse.  Not one of my finest moments, but one I will learn from.

 

From the time I woke up, I knew it was going to be a rough day.  By the time lunch rolled around, I had decided the only thing that could make me feel any better was going to be a bean burrito from Taco Bell. My trip to Taco Bell ended with an exchange of unpleasantries with staff and no bean burrito.  In the moment, I was mad that I sat in the line for 15 minutes only to find out they couldn’t take my order.  In that moment, I was mad when I saw 3 employees standing outside having a break.  On a good day, the Vanessa I want to be, would have still been disappointed, but understanding that there may be something more going on that I can’t see.   Maybe the computers were down.  Maybe they had an employee get sick or an emergency.  Whatever it was that caused the issue, I realized it had nothing to do with my dad being sick.  It had nothing to do with me being in a bad mood because of the season of life I am in.  What happened at Taco Bell did not warrant me to take my anger out on someone else.  And it hasn’t sat right with me since. 

 

I asked myself, if dad and I could have a conversation today about the Taco Bell incident, what would he say to me.  And this is what came to mind.  When I was of age to start going out of the house on my own without a parent, my dad would always say to me on my way out “Remember who you are.”  “Ok dad, will do,” was my response with an extra dose of the side eye roll.  But as I look back now, I realize what he meant by that.  He was telling me to remember how to treat others.  Remember to treat others as you would want to be treated.  He was reminding me that I came from good, decent parents who taught us to do the right thing.  And I think if I could talk to dad about this, he would tell me the same thing, “Remember who you are.” 

 

So I swallowed my pride and I wrote a note to the employees at Taco Bell.  First telling them that my rudeness was uncalled for and then thanked them for the work that they do.  I humbly ordered my bean burrito and asked to speak to the manager.  Being that it was lunch time, I didnt want to take up much of her time.  I explained why I was there and handed her my heartfelt note.  I dont know if she read it or threw it in the trash.   But that’s not why I did it.  I did it because it is the right thing to do.  It is important to own a mistake.  It is important to remember that all though we are not perfect humans, it is important to still treat others with kindness even in a very imperfect world. It is important to stand firm in who you are and who you want to be.  I don’t want to be the angry person who takes their anger out on others. 

 

Thanks to my dad for those four words.  He probably never understood the power behind them or even realize that I still think about him saying them to me.  But was and is a true gift to me.  (silver lining.)   

 

 

 

Daily chores

 

I brought in photo albums of the boys to look at with dad. I hadn’t tried this before, so I thought maybe it would be good for him. Boy was I wrong. Dad was enjoying his coffee and apple cider donut I had brought him, when I took the albums from my bag. I opened it and said “Look dad, here is when Myles was born.” He looked, but seemed to be more interested in the donut. I skipped through some pages until I came to a photo of the boys together. I pointed out that this was when Myles met his baby brother Will. Dad burst into tears. “Dad, why are you crying?” He wiped away his tears and said because “I miss that I am not there.” Then I burst out into tears. I had no words, felt like an ass for bringing in something that made him sad, and quickly put the albums back into my bag.



Dad finished his donut. He turned himself in his chair and started talking to a few others in the room. He introduced me as his sister and then told them “Don’t listen to what she says, she talks too fast.” I chuckled. Dad got up out of his chair, folded up the table cloth, placed his wadded up napkin underneath it, and then placed the table cloth back over the table leaving a little mountain of napkin. Again I chuckled, wondering why he did this. He asked me if I was ready and I told him I was. I asked him where we were off too and he said something about needing to take care of some money. I gladly went with him, excited to see what adventures awaited me.



We first walked down the hallway. We didn’t get far before we turned around and headed back the same way we just came from. Once we got to the sitting/family room, dad attempted to open a closet door that was locked. He tried several turns of the knob trying to open it with no luck. I asked him what was in there and he told me the choir was in their singing. I told him we were too late and they locked us out. He shrugged and pointed to a chair and told me to sit. I did as I was told. He walked over to the couch and sat. He was pretty talkative this visit which was a breath of fresh air since the last few weeks was hard to get him to talk much at all. He tried to talk to a woman sitting next to him but she does not speak. I felt bad for him because he kept asking her about her new machine (aka…her walker) and she would just look at him. I tried to intervene a little and change the subject. There was a wall quote on the wall behind me. Dad pointed at it and asked me if I wanted the fries or the burger. I just smiled and said both sounded good. He tried to get up off the couch but it sits pretty low. I went over to help him and he looked at me strangely. So I patted him on the shoulder and went and sat back down. We watched a little bit of “Gunsmoke” that was playing on the television. He laughed at something that was said on the television, thinking it was something I said. He tried to get back up again. I went back to help him up, this time he gave me his arm. He told me it was time to “get to work.”



He walked over to the baby doll crib and inside there was a basket of play food (fruit, vegetables, and cans). He grabbed an apple and told me he needed to put away the bread and water. And without a breath, he turned and walked over to the set of shelves. On the shelves are baskets with all kinds of goodies. The one basket he pulled out had a plastic spoon, a blue crocheted wash cloth, a green fleece blanket, and a green scarf. I again chuckled wondering how these items got there. I can only imagine, but I think it is precious that these “treasures” were put there by my dad or his friends with a purpose in mind. Dad threw the blanket and the scarf on a chair next to the shelving unit. He then placed the wash cloth on top, took the spoon and started stirring the cloth around. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was “folding clothes.” He then handed me the spoon and asked me to put it back. I asked him if we were going to put the clothes away and he said “nope.”



Our next chore was to put the coats away. Dad walked over to another sitting area. On the couch was a mat or I guess you could call it a pad. Probably to help with any accidents that may occur. He picked it up and folded it in half. He told me it was “his jacket” pointing to the open door way and then told me to put it away. As he turned to leave, I placed the pad back onto the couch. Dad walked back to the shelves and informed me that the plants needed some help. I asked him what kind of plants they were but he didn’t answer me. He was already sitting down in the chair with all of the “folded clothes” taking off his shoe. I asked him why he was taking his shoe off and he said so I could put cream on his toes. I asked him where the cream was and he said he didn’t have any. I watched him as he carefully put his shoe back on. And then he just sat back. I sat down on a table next to the chair. We talked for a little bit more; about the picture of the truck hanging on the wall, the red hat on the hook, and how his leg had “caught fire” from the knee down. I don’t always know what dad is talking about, but I always act like I do. I guess it is my way of making him feel heard.



As I am walking to my car I let out a huge sigh. That was exhausting I thought. Up and down and all around. But as I drove home and recaptured the moments from the visit, I realized that dad and I were doing chores together. We were putting food away, folding clothes, and hanging jackets. In my dads world, we were taking care of things together, just like I had done as a kid. Bringing in the groceries from the car, getting the laundry from the dryer to fold, and hanging up coats draped over chairs after playing in the snow all afternoon. It sure brought back memories for me and my drive home was a lot lighter. (silver lining).