My Least Favorite Question

How's your dad? That is my least favorite question. It always implies in my mind that the asker doesn't know anything about Dad or his disease. Since the answer can never be "better" there are few other options for an answer. He could be the same, but even that is technically not true. He is simply declining. That is the answer, "Declining". How tough can it be for people to figure out that answer? A better question would be, "How does your dad think he is today?" Healed, fine, ready to get a job, ready to get married to a lady whose name he doesn't even know. How does he think he is today? No where close to how he is. He is daily less articulate. He is daily less able to process a conversation of even a few words loudly and slowly spoken.

He is basically stuck in a rut of two avenues of monologue. There is no real dialogue, just his own rambling monologue begun at random and ending at random. He either talks about when he was a boy his grandparents had 14 children and they all got together every Sunday. That avenue is almost daily. When our son in law comes to visit the conversation goes to the war. He does remember, amazingly since he doesn't remember anything else that has happened in the past 20 years, that our son in law is in the service. Therefore, when he shows up the avenue automatically shifts to when he was in the war. Since our son in law usually shows up at mealtime, the avenue of thought is simple. In the war we had good food.

The other day a friend who has come weekly for 2 years to play cards with Dad every Tuesday came to play cards. Dad looked at him without recognition. When I told Dad that he should go get his cards he just stared at me. He was absolutely lost. Finally I went and got his cards because he never processed the simple sentence, "Go get your cards." Four one syllable words. Repeated several times with good volume. He just stared. Yesterday was Tuesday. His friend was here again. After he left I asked Dad who had won? He just stared. I repeated more slowly, "who won the card game?" He just stared. Then he started rambling about something that happened at day care center. He was incoherent so I don't know what he was trying to say. The center was the only piece I picked up. I asked him again, "Who won the card game?" What card game? he wondered with a mutter. "The card game you have been playing at this table." He just stared. The good news was that after the question was repeated one more time, he answered, "He did."

Why is it like this? I think there are thoughts in his mind that he is trying to grab. He can't snatch them from his own mind to speak them clearly. While he is trying to snatch those thoughts from his mind, he can't process at all any other input. His mind is working to get at something that he cannot retrieve. In the process it shuts off all other sensory input. The ears don't hear because the mind is elsewhere. As a result he is becoming increasingly closed off from both himself and others. One bit of good news to conclude. His sister who also suffers from Alzheimer's is finally getting some care. Her caregivers have not been providing any at all for the past 2 or more years. Someone turned them in to DHS. Now they are starting to do something for her. One thing has been to take her to the same adult day care center that Dad attends. She has been there the past 2 days. I hope they keep it up. She needs it (she is at least as far along in the disease as Dad) and he is brightened by her presence.