Frustrated Joe

It has been an extra long time since my last blog. There was a problem with logging on, but I'm back.

Alzheimer's impairs ability, not desire. The list of things that Dad can't do is long. The list of things he is willing to admit that he can't do is non-existent. The list of things that he wants to do is long. He asked the junior Sunday school teacher two weeks ago if she needed any help teaching. That might sound innocent enough, but it isn't. There is nothing he starts that he doesn't want to control or dominate. Interpreted accurately, he asked her if she would like to sit while he teaches her class for her.

What is the downside to this? Well, he can't remember what he is saying if interrupted. Do junior SS kids interrupt? Yes. Would they do it on purpose once they caught on? Probably. Can he display a very nasty temper? Yes. Add to that that he cannot maintain dialog for long periods of time. It reduces to mumbling and lost words the further it goes. Ability, no; desire, yes.

Dad's plan B. Our church needs a choir. Who said? He said? Why did he say? He wants to be the new choir director? Problem. See above. Second problem, he wants to accompany the choir on the piano. It is his back door attempt to play the piano for church. Secondary problem, he can't play the piano well enough for anyone to sing with him. Will he take suggestions? No. Will he take criticism? No. Will he be content to lead the choir if the music is picked for him and the piano is played by someone else? No. (At least that way the choir could sing. They would have to ignore his direction, but hey, I've been a choir director and that happens more often than not.)

The piano at the adult care center has broken. True. I went over and checked it out myself. What does he want to do? Fix it. Can he? Probably. Next problem. He would want to retune it. Can he? No. I did tell the director that I believed he could fix the problem if given the chance. It is still broken. New problem. Now he wants to entertain them on the trumpet instead. Can he? NO!!! When he first came here a year and a half ago I encouraged him to play his trumpet. He tried. His lip is gone. He won't practice. He has a range of 4 notes comfortably. I hope he forgets this last goal quickly or I will have to hide his trumpet and mine, too.

Truly, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. That makes the sunset all the more sad.