Not Much

No, I haven't forgotten how to blog. The thing has been that there hasn't been and remains not much to blog about. Dad has been sick. 81 year old sick is different than 50 year old sick. A cold isn't just a cold. He was upset and wanted to go to the hospital with his cold last week. I was rather astounded as most people don't think of going to the hospital with a runny nose, but he did. The hospital told him not to bother to come in as they wouldn't give him a room. The doctor also told him to wait it out when I took him to see the doctor on Monday. The cold has hung on, however, and he looks and sounds not well. Progress is being made and he says that he does feel better. That's good. He had a second surgery on his face this week to completely remove the cancerous spot. That has added to the week's difficulties. He missed both days of going to volunteer because of his illness. Hopefully next week will be more fulfilling for him.

The Volunteer

What gives most people, men anyway, a sense of identity is work. What can't the Alzheimer's patient carry on successfully, work. What do they still want to do. Work. It is a mantra of Dad's that he wants to be useful. If you are a follower of the blogs, you know that can be dangerous to him and things he works with. Last Saturday he wanted to be useful so he went out and took off the dead stalks on the hollyhocks. Only, he lost his balance and fell down and hurt his hand. We had it checked out and it is nothing serious. It is, however, something that can happen when he wants to help.

So, what can he do? Well, he can play the piano. The fingers still have their touch. I am rather amazed coming from a musical family that playing the piano is really a big deal. Apparently not that many people either play or want to offer their skills for the enjoyment of others. How to connect his skill to his need to be useful? Enter the crisis. He can't go to the senior center anymore, although he doesn't know that. But, we have to get him out of the house so he doesn't go stir crazy. There is the other place he went that one day, the adult day care center that he felt so bothered by going to. He is functioning higher than them, in his own mind if not in total reality. Could they use a piano player? YES!!!

On Tuesday I took him over to see about "volunteering" at the center. He was an immediate hit with the clients. He can volunteer to play for them two mornings a week and then stay to "help" the other clients with their needs the rest of the day. He is getting the care that he needs in an environment that is good for him and is able to feel totally useful. YEAH! Today was his first full day and aside from missing my wife's good cooking for lunch, he had a good time. There is another advantage. He thinks it's on the same day as he was going to the senior center, and I am not going to tell him otherwise, but on the downlow, it isn't. He doesn't know, but he does know that he is now the useful man, Joe the Volunteer.

The Other Shoe Dropped

Well, it happened. The senior center informed us today that Dad can't go back on his own. His dementia is considered a liability risk. They are not designed to monitor and assist. As noted in an earlier update, it is for people who can operate independently. He really can't. He can follow simple directions, like get in line for lunch, or deal the cards, but he can't initiate the actions by himself. I arrived early the other day to pick him up and watched him play cards for a while. It was quite sad. He could follow suit, but not pick up on the whole idea of what was taking place in the game.

Earlier I had talked about the potential for his playing taps for military funerals. Whereas he had seemed a little interested in the idea, he never actually made any effort to follow through on preparing for doing so. He got his trumpet out twice and played for a couple of minutes and put it away. He said that was all he could do for the day and didn't want to hurt his lip. Well, today the American Legion called and wanted him to play. I had to make my apologies and explain that he wouldn't be able to do it afterall. It had seemed such a bright prospect, but he just doesn't have the faculties to do it, and I have to accept that.

Today he had the lesions removed from his face. It was quick and simple and he experienced no pain. The downside is that he is confused. He now thinks that the cancer on his face was related to his alzheimer's and that the removal of the cancer also means that the alzheimer's is now also gone. That is presenting its own complications since he left the doctor.

Final thought for today. Dad has gone down hill considerably this week. It has been almost agonizing to watch. It is like he stepped off a ledge and fell to a lower ledge. Abilities, thoughts, reactions have changed in big ways. But tonight we had a great heart to heart talk. He won't remember tomorrow, and that is too bad because we discussed some very important things and came to an agreement on all of them. As I told him, each day will become an exciting new adventure of territory he hasn't covered before. The future is bright the prospect of great new discovery for each day of the rest of his life. Sunshine and descent.

Same Song, Second Verse

Well, where to start. Dad is upset. He told the Senior Center he would tune their piano, but he doesn't have his tools, they are in storage, and so he can't. Even if they were out of storage, he couldn't, but he doesn't accept that. That makes me the bad guy again.

Today he had to go to the dermatologist. He has small growths on his face which she thinks are cancerous. Nothing serious, they simply need to be taken off. Jacque took him today and he didn't want her to go in with him. After a few minutes the doctor came out and asked her to come in. Dad doesn't communicate on someone else's plane. When she asked him questions he basically ignored her and talked about what he wanted to talk about and couldn't understand the things she was saying. He wasn't happy that Jacque ended up in the room, but that is just the way it is. Even with Jacque in the room he still tried to stay on his own thoughts and interupted the doctor to have his say on anything that happened to be on his mind. That was me, of course. I am stealing his money. He can't understand it going into the bank with direct deposit. He doesn't want it in the bank because the bank steals it too. That seems a common alzheimer's thing.

We went to the library today because he asked to go. He always likes to look at the World War II books. First we got him his own library card. We had to use my identification to get him a card. He told the lady that I looked so bad in my driver's license picture because I had just gotten out of jail. Then he told the lady at the information desk that he wanted some books. He said he wanted book on ....... not World War II, but on names. The librarian looked at him curiously, but of course he couldn't explain it better than that, and I had no idea what he was talking about. I asked him if he didn't want to see some books on WWII and he looked at me like I was an idiot. At that time I certainly felt like one. It was turning into a delightful trip. He had asked Jacque for some books on alzheimer's, so we asked for some of them as well. While the librarian was frantically trying to figure out what kind of books on names he wanted, Jacque went and got him some books on Scotland. The librarian did find some books on names, not what he wanted, but no one is quite sure what he wanted and she gave him two books on alzheimer's. On the way to the reading table he stopped by two kids playing chess and told them they were doing it wrong. When I got him to his reading table he was well supplied with books which kept him occupied for about an hour.

In one of the alzheimer's books there was a series of pictures on the changes in the brain. He told me that after looking at the books he knew that he didn't have whatever it was that they were about. But, then he showed me the pictures of the brain to prove it. I reminded him that the doctor had taken pictures of his brain last summer, something which acknowleged that he could "sort of" remember doing. I told him that that was how the doctor knew, in part anyway, that he had alzheimer's. He looked at me and looked at the book and read the subtitles. Normal, mild, moderate, severe. He looked at me again and said, "how do they cure it?" They don't. "Oh," he said. "Well, I don't have it, because God just healed me," and he closed the book. That ended our trip to the library for today.

Music Man, Etc.

It has been suggested that I am repeating myself in this blog. Perhaps, but when it is repeated in Dad's life and mind over and over again, it keeps coming up here as well. The dots all connect, not so much in his mind as in a pattern that can be seen. The music man is part of the pattern.

Today he has really been on the issue of getting his piano tuning tools out and getting back to work. That his piano tuning jobs had fallen way off in the past couple of years is something, along with the rest of the past couple of years, that he simply can't remember. He did tune pianos for many years, and he is living back there somewhere in the glory days.

He wanted to tune my piano today. That isn't going to happen. The last time he did it was a complete disaster as many of his more recent clients discovered. Well, he kept at it and at it until finally he asked, "what did I ever do that was so bad to your piano that you won't let me tune it now?" Now I had been honestly trying the only three answers that work with alzheimer's patients, yes, ignore and change the subject just as much as I possibly could. But he kept at it, so I told him. He looked shocked, dismayed, hurt, offended and then he began to apologize. He would never do that again. Ever. Well, I watched him tune an old piano just a month and a half ago, and yes, he would.

But his feelings were hurt. He wants to be "worthwhile" and says that sitting around is not being worthwhile. So, back at it he went. He wants his equipment so he can do a job. My job. Never mind that we had resolved that issue 5 minutes ago. 5 minutes ago is gone, kaput. He wants to tune my piano. After all, 2 octaves are way out of tune, he says. By the way, did I say that just yesterday he was telling me how nicely my piano sounded? But that was yesterday, and yesterday's gone.

On a positive note, he does still play well, usually. He plays much better from memory than from a book, but even then it is OK. He plays the piano for the senior center and they really like him to do it. He goes there at least once a week, twice if possibe, and he plays for about an hour each day. Oldies from their generation and then a selectin of hymns. It is an opportunity to be useful. I just have to make sure he doesn't offer to tune their piano and that they don't accept if he does.

He also wants to advertise for new piano students. Good idea because he still knows his stuff. The Music Man's memory of theory and practice is locked in for a long time to come. (An alzheimer's nurse says that it may be the last thing that will go.) But, he wouldn't remember what day their lessons were on and quite likely what they covered in the last lesson. So much that he can do combined with so much that he can't. So, we have the sunshine and the descent.