Obsession

Tomorrow is Father's Day.  We plan to take Dad out to lunch.  If he is having one of his dementia-related headaches, we will eat lunch with him at the house instead.

Last Saturday, Dad called me wanting me to visit him before Thursday [which I would have anyway] and insisting that I bring him a turquoise book that he left at my house.  He said he wants to discuss something with me.  I said okay.  I thought to myself, oh finally he wants to talk about dieing or something like that.  I could not locate the book.  I'm not even sure we have the book in our house. 

Monday I did visit Dad.  He went on for forty-five minutes about the book of old bank statements.  He said they were statements showing his earnings, that he was a high earner, that he made a ton of money every week.  [At one time he did].  He had to send copies of these statements to the headquarters weekly to show what he was earning in commissions.  Finally, I asked him what he will do with this book of bank statements once I find them.  "I'm going to bring them along to show people that I am a top earner when I apply for jobs."  Sigh.

I went to visit Dad again this past Thursday.  I still could not find the book of bank statements.  It may in fact be in a box in his closet at the adult supervised living house.  I don't know where it is.  But I am increasingly certain that the thing is not at my house.

Dad was having a headache.  "Did you find the book?" were his first words to me after a brief hello.  "No," I said.  "I am disappointed," he said heavily emphasizing every word.  He spent some time demanding that I look on top of the bookshelf in his old bedroom.  [The bookshelf has been moved].  He got short with me.  He then said he needed the book so he could get money from the headquarters.  When I inquired how this was going to occur or why, he stated that the headquarters will give him money "because it is the right thing to do."

When I called before dinner today [Saturday] in regards to plans for Father's Day tomorrow, Dad made it clear to me that I was to locate this book of bank statements.  He said "I want to go over some things with you."  I figured this meant perhaps that Dad wants me to type a letter for him to the headquarters indicating where they should send the money that he feels they should give him.  Dad doesn't say "goodbye" before he hands up anymore.  He just hangs up.  After he told me again to look for this book of bank statements, he hung up.

Dad is obsessed with money.  He believes that he has no money.  He wants to get more money.  He wants to leave us his kids money rather than pay a dentist money for a new partial plate.  He wants to find a dentist that will take "time payments."  Or rather, he wants me to locate said dentist.  He wants to get a job selling cars.  He wants to be given a demo to drive around in for selling a bunch of cars.  He wants to then move to his own apartment.

Dad does not believe that the State will seize his assets when he lands in an extended care nursing facility due to the progression of his Lewey Bodies Dementia.  He used to have long-term care insurance.  He cancelled it.

Dad wants to work.  But he is barely able to keep himself upright.  He staggers.  He sleeps more.  His physical condition and his mental state are deteriorating. 

I am not looking forward to tomorrow.  I hope that he does not get nasty when once again I show up without his turquoise book of old bank statements.  I just want to have a peaceful visit with my father.  I love my dad. 

This may be the last Father's Day that we will have together.  Or even if it isn't, this time next year he will be in even worse shape than he is now.  Dementia sucks.  It really and truly does.

sapphoq on life