Another Solstice has gone by. Another Christmas is finished. The older I get, the faster time speeds along. Such is the nature of things. I can remember when an hour was huge and a whole day was enormous. The last two days have really emphasized to me the changes in my dad in his continuing deterioration from dementias.
Christmas Eve, I took him to Mass. He is still able to walk a bit but I don't trust him on snow. Since there was a bit of it, I dropped him off as close to the front door as possible and then went and found a parking spot. He had managed to go inside. So that part was good.
The part that wasn't so good was that the church was already filled up a half-hour before the Mass was supposed to start. We are talking about a very small Roman Catholic Church in a very small dieing little town. Some really little kids-- maybe kindergardeners and first graders-- were up front
During the Mass [I keep wanting to type "service"], Dad was able to chant some of the prayers along with everyone else. Hymnals were of no use this time around. Last year he was able to follow one. This year, although he can still read after a fashion, he can't. The stand up /sit down/ stand up routine was more difficult for him this year than last Christmas and even than last Easter. He did manage though.
Dad told me that the priest is the same one that comes to the house; that he teases the priest for talking too much. And it was true. The priest certainly did talk too much. I couldn't follow the homily. Something about David retrieving an ark of the Covenant in the desert and the Virgin Mary being the ark for Jesus and he tried to squeeze in a movie-- the Raiders of the Lost Ark-- but by that time, he had lost me. The lady behind us loudly whispered to her companion, "Follow the commandments. Don't stray off the beaten path. Listen to the Bible and to the Mother Church. The end." That seemed to be the gist of his message. Lady behind us may have been thinking about some baking in her oven. She kept double-time on the chanted prayers and was finished long before anyone else. Even so, the whole thing lasted about an hour and a half.
There was some respite in the form of a baby running away from her mother every four minutes or so and up the middle of the church toward the altar. My money was on that kid but she never did reach the priest. Her horrified mother kept dashing after her. She scooped up the baby who would then break out into peels of laughter. This amused Dad. And it amused me too. Dad pointed out a beautiful little girl sitting with her father with long straight hair and a homemade quite pretty knitted dress.
After we did the sign of peace thing that modern Roman Catholics do these days-- vigorous handshaking all around-- Dad stood up and started out of the pew onto the aisle. I managed to stop him. I was able to ascertain that he thought that the Mass was over. He had forgotten whether or not Communion had happened. [It hadn't. His short-term memory is shot from the two dementias that he now has].
Communion happened. He asked to follow me up. On Easter and Christmas last he was able to follow the line of folks himself without me being ahead of him. So he followed me. I watched him greet the priest as he was given the wafer. Then I watched him take a determined hold of the gold chalice and get a healthy swig of wine down before he would let go of it. We got back to the seats alright.
Soon after it was over. I was amused to see an altar girl in the procession along with the two altar boys. All three kids appeared to be related and judging by height, she was the middle child. As they walked past, I heard her say a very healthy "shut-up!" to her younger brother. The noise in the church was such that I couldn't hear what he had said to her to garner that reaction as they were too far away. I smiled at her saying "shut-up!" to her pesky younger brother. I know it was Christmas Eve and all, but it was pretty cool. I couldn't help but wonder if she too will determine that she does not wish to be Catholic anymore during her own adolescence.
After church, one of the pastoral laity assistants who was not a priest recognized my Dad and greeted him. The fellow was quite personable and glad to see Dad in church. Apparently, someone in the church will give Dad a ride on Sundays if he ever wants to go. I told Dad later on that would be alright by me. Now that I know that he wants to go, in his words, "once in awhile" I can make that happen for him either through me taking him or someone from the church coming to get him. I suspect that ultimately as in after the first or second time he is gotten, they will ask not to. But that is alright. Dad has had some success even in this stage of his failing brain with making his own connections. I am willing for him to get a ride to church from someone other than me a few times. That the assistant and the priest have both been to Dad's supervised living adult home means that the offer wasn't made totally blind.
Dad was quite stiff and tired once I got him back to the house. He did allow me this time to go up the stairs before him but stopped me at the door and said goodnight.
This morning, partner and I got to the house at eleven a.m. just when we said we would. Dad looked like hell, still tired from yesterday and also complaining about a headache along the top right side of his head. "As if someone is pulling out my hair," he said. I pointed out that he could ask a staffer for two headache pill. He nodded but kept forgetting to do so. Finally, I went and found the staffer and said he would be asking. She came to him with the medication before he was able to get himself up to do so. Twenty minutes later, he had forgotten that he just had the two headache pills. I reminded him of that. It took him a few minutes to decide to believe me.
Dinner-- they have breakfast, dinner, and supper there-- was held in the usual way with four separate tables rather than one long time like was done on Thanksgiving and Christmas last. There weren't any Christmas songs playing. That might have been just as well. Dad had noticed before dinner that my partner "does not hear well." He was quite right about that. But partner refuses to go for a hearing test because partner does not wish to be fitted with hearing aids. Actually, quite a few of the old folks that Dad lives with seem to hear better than my partner does. At any rate, Dad's eating rate has slowed down noticeably since even Thanksgiving. I think probably that even though it is a sign that his Lewey Body Dementia is winning the fight over Dad's physical abilities, his slow rate may very well offer some protection against the choking that often happens with older folks. Dad did enjoy the meal though. I did also actually. Quite yummy.
After, we went upstairs to Dad's room. I had to point out to Dad that the two bags were for relatives who will be dropping in soon to see him and not for us. We exchanged presents. Partner's selection pleased Dad very much and he was able to talk about it. But he was a bit confused as to whether we were leaving it for him or he was giving it to us. Partner went to the bathroom. At which time, Dad told me he would hold on to the colored socks that another resident's family member had gotten him.
These colored socks are crucial to Dad's plan. Dad still has a plan of going back to work. This time though, going back to work will happen "in the spring." There is now zero recogntion that he is unable to work. Sometimes he will admit to his brain "failing" or even to dementia; other times he insists that his forgetfulness is normal aging. Today he admitted to neither. And once again I was confronted with his deepest wish to have things return to at least partial normalcy. And no, he does not wish to do volunteer work. He wants a job in the field that he had his career in and he wants to be paid. He did not go into what usually follows his idea that he wants to work again. What usually follows is enough money for his own apartment, a car, and maybe even a small business loan to start-up a business back in Jersey. I can't give him any of those things. I can't safely make any of that happen. Not even an apartment because he does not have the funds to pay for twenty-four hour supervision. And he historically used to throw out any helpers that were obtained for him.
We left with plans for me to take Dad to the [family] doctor on Thursday. Dad has never liked doctors. For someone who hates doctors, he certainly has demanded to visit them of late. Taking Dad to the family doc has value though. Doc is able to convince Dad for a short time that Dad's um, "floating", bumps on his head are not brain cancer. Maybe after the doctor visit, we can go to the nearby shoe store. The owner of the shoe store is very good with older folks. Dad needs sturdy shoes that fit. His shoes are in various stages of disrepair. With his weight loss, his shoes are now too loose, making them potentially dangerous.
Dad has the characteristic "long lean look" of someone with Lewey Body Dementia. Partner was able to readily identify that Dad has declined very much since visiting him last month. I spent some time with my sadness over Dad's condition. I know that death happens to all of us. But some of us are dieing faster than the rest of us. I keep hoping that Dad will die in his sleep before the real horrors set in.
sapphoq on life
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