A Weekend With Dad

This past weekend Neat Guy and I traveled to IL to see my father. The guys wanted to meet each other. When your father is 82 and having memory issues you feel a sense of urgency about these things. Dad recieved a provisional diagnosis of Vascular Dementia last month. At the time of diagnosis he was in pretty bad shape. Now he's been on medications for about a month and has stabilized...fairly well...Well enough to refuse to attend the neurology and psychiatry appointments his PCP arranged. "I worked in neurology for 5 years!" bellows my father, a retired neuropsychologist/farmer. "What are they going to tell me about myself that I don't already know? And they want money up front!"
Dad and Neat Guy hit it off. We talked and laughed for the entire 3 days. Neat Guy enjoyed the fatherly Q&A thus earning himself the honor of being the only man my sister or I have dated that my father has actually liked.
The first day we went to the family farm. Dad tinkered with his riding lawn mower, then used the wiley old farmer tactic of asking Neat Guy to test it out. Next thing I knew my boyfriend had mowed the entire property and Dad was grinning from ear to ear. We ate at Dairy Queen every day. DQ is Dad's favorite restaruant, perhaps because he is diabetic. One day he ate 2 large Blizzards and an ice cream cone. Another day Dad shuffled to the Walmart checkout with his prescriptions and beer. He swore it was non-alcoholic. It wasn't. He attempted to look surprised, then elected to make the best of things and enjoy a couple anyway. Damn the Rx warning labels! This is classic Dad. And this is why I fondly refer to him as "the Geriatric Delinquent".
Aphasia was his most obvious symptom. Second to that was apathy. He said several times he has "no ambition". He struggles to recall how to operate convenience machines: his computer, the tv remotes, the air conditioning thermostat. He forgot I was there last month. He doesn't feel safe behind the wheel of a car. He feels physically weak. But he answers phone calls with his characteristic deep "HELLO!!". And he still tells stories that have me laughing until I can barely breathe. He remembers back country roads spanning multiple counties. He worries about his farm cat. He bitches about my habit of placing a hand inside the steering wheel to make turns. He hangs his laundry out to dry because he likes the smell of the sun in his clothes. With a contemplative look and a wave of his hand he says, "As long as I can look around me and see beautiful things in nature, people enjoying themselves, I'm okay. I want to be here."

Long Goodbyes

Dad and I have said many goodbyes, having lived in separate states for 31 years. We liked to keep them short. It hurt less that way. Tonight I am sitting on the sofa at my father's home, with my laptop on a TV tray, keeping vigil. Across from me is the most brilliant, complex, and fortunate man I've ever met. My father. Five minutes ago he did not know where he was or why friends weren't coming to get him. Now he is asleep sitting in his chair. My daughters and I had planned an end of school visit. The day we were to arrive Dad went into the hospital suffering from vivid hallucinations.
He needed to be on a geriatric/psychiatric unit for observation. Professionally, I knew that was the absolute best option. The doctor agreed. All but one family member agreed. My father refused. He is a neuropsychologist who, at 82, remembers some very horrible things about 1960's psych wards. He obtained his postdoctorate after surviving a major traumatic brain injury from a motor vehicle accident. The recovery was horrendous. He hates hospitals. He was furious with me for suggesting he go.
The doctor discharged him with instructions that my father not be alone until his follow up appointment. My father is very private and introverted, yet charming and social. His idea of "a visit" is that my girls and I come and go so he gets his alone time. In fact, Dad and I have pretty much survived this way for years. We give each other a lot of space and have each other's back when the chips are down.
Dad is struggling to accept the gravity of this situation. Intellectually he knows far more than I do about what is happening to him and what to expect. It's his greatest fear. Several years ago he supported his mother through dementia, so he's experienced my side of it too. For several days he was in denial, short tempered about being watched. This morning at his follow up visit the doctor reiterated that my father needs supervision, especially at night when symptoms worsen. He also told him not to drive. And that he wants Dad to see a neurologist and psychiatrist.
On the way home Dad became agitated about being "babysat". Finally I just looked at him and said, "Dad, there's nothing good about this. It sucks. It sucks that you are hallucinating. It sucks that your balance is off. It sucks that you are on so many meds. We just have to get through it." His response was to fall asleep. Or maybe he was just thinking. Either way, he became quiet and calmer. Later he stated this had "been a long time coming".
We--Dad, me, my sister, his grand kids, his friends--will whether this long goodbye.