The Decision

Dad has now been with us just a little less than 3 years. To put that in perspective, that has been the graduation from high school of one child, college of 2 children and myself (my masters), the birth of 2 grandchildren, a third was born a week before he came, the marriage of two children, the changing of my primary employment, the death of our long time family dog (15 years) and the arrival of our newest family member (now a year and a half ago - Molly the dog). There has not been a shortage of things going on in our lives. Upheaval can be best used to describe our lives over the past 34 months. During these normally stressful events we have made adjustments to Dad's disease as he has progressed from late stage 4 to mid-stage 6 Alzheimer's.

The first adjustment was to having him here. The second was to him not wanting to be here. He was always, and I don't mean usually, very nasty to me in particular, tantrums, swearing, arguing, any means of expressing his disapproval of the new situation. I could wake up in the morning with the clear expectation of more verbal abuse. There was the adjustment to me being the parent of a not so cooperative 81 year old man and making decisions for which there had been no progressive preparation. We had to find him activities outside our home for both his and our survival. We had to fight with him to go to these activities until they became a habit, only to have that habit broken as we took some respite and have to start all over again.

Adjustments, adjustments, adjustments. I could have been a chiropractor. At each skill level change we made adjustments. As each mental acuity level changed we had to make adjustments. He cannot adjust. The care giver adjusts. As he began to communicate differently we adjusted to keep communication open. As his perceptions abruptly changed, we adjusted to keep within the scope of "his reality". For a while it seemed to be the "reality du jour". Any expectations of him changed into adjustments for us. All the while our own life adjusted around us in a myriad of swirling changes demanding our attention. At the end of six months we were exhausted. At the end of three years - well, I can't even describe how we are.

As recorded earlier Dad's health changed on my birthday. That is now a month and a half ago and he still daily says, "I don't feel well." He has been to the doctor, the hospital, seen the visiting nurse multiple times and in every case been declared "Healthy and fine." Still the mantra is, "I don't feel well." "I don't feel well," can mean, "I am not going to church today", "I am not going to adult day care today," or "I am not going to do anything at all but sit here in my chair and die." My lovely bride has been pushed past her capacity to care for him for the past 3 years and now the very limited activities which she is allowed during his time at adult day care are jeopardized by, "I don't feel well." She never, ever, has complained. She hasn't complained now. But the extra stress is visible. The time has come. The decision has been made. We have been adjusted to the limit. Another adjustment would cause breakage.

Tomorrow we have our final visit to a nursing home. We have examined homes for the past 3 years knowing that the final time would come. We had no idea how we would know when that time had come, but we knew it eventually would. Last week I said to my bride, "The time has come." She smiled, "I thought that a week ago." She had never said a word. There was no one final major issue. There was no line in the sand that was crossed. All of our wondering how we would know was simply summed up in the one sentence. "I know it is time." We have no guilt. We know it is time. The time may take 2 more months. Now that we know, we have to wait for an opening. But, the peace of knowing will be an enablement for the duration. We can say without any hesitation any longer that he will be better off in a home. He will have new people to talk to, to share his limited repertoire of stories with. He will have 24 hour nursing care when he doesn't feel well. (He has always been a terrible hypochondriac - this should be great.) We finally see someone else being able to provide his care and do it better than we can. It will be a new sunshine in his descent. And, it will be some sunshine for us before we collapse under the weight of his descent. There is a time for every purpose under heaven. It is time.