Oh! My Kidneys!

Glimmer of Hope

2010-08-12T21:42:00.006-04:00

This has been the most insane 4 days. I will fill you in later, but in an effort to "be in the moment", this just in:

Dad took the "country car service" to and from work today (and made three complaint calls to me over 6 hours) and adamantly refused to go on tomorrow's trip to the race track. I called the facility and cancelled his spot. Wouldn't you know, in 35 minutes my phone rang with one of the directors on the line.... "Your Dad is going to the track tomorrow. We scooped him into an activity and he was talking and laughing with people and (are you ready for this?) was especially talking to one of the ladies. She asked him, "Are you going to the track? You should, I am." And what do you know?... He's going to the track! Bertha, the sugar sweet activities director with the knock out smile and beguiling Colombian accent will be taking lots of pictures to show me on Saturday. Unreal. Needless to say, my spirits were instantly lifted and it gave me the energy, after a full day of cleaning, organizing, cooking, weeding + laundry, to vacuum my house. Apparently he saw one of the men who is watching out for him during the transition and Dad said, "You got me in trouble, you know that?" (in his joking way) "You got these girls here to get me to do things." I'm going to have to make a sign for his door that says "MY DAD the 'Ladies Man'". I just hope this new lady has a cane or oxygen tank so she can swack his current girlfriend (whom he has not told that he moved!!!!!) over the head with it when she comes into town on her rescue mission. Ha ha ha.

If I am smart, I will call the facility and let them know that over the next week and a half before leaving for Paris that, even if it's not true, they can call me with all the great things Dad is doing and how happy he is. The call tonight was what I thought would/could happen for him in a place like this. Amen + alleluia. And yes, I know tomorrow will be an entirely new + different day and this will all take much more time. But for tonight, I am in a state of bliss the likes of which I have not felt in far too long.

Dear Dad,

2010-08-11T10:13:00.004-04:00

Dear Dad,
Well, we both have one thing in common tonight, neither one of us thought you'd get here. I am extremely proud of you today and I declare you one of the bravest men in the state today.

I cannot begin to imagine the courage it has taken to walk through the doors of this place. But you did.

Remember when I was a young girl and I thought you were a hero? Now that I am an adult (with the gray hair to prove it, which I am going to blame on YOU! Ha ha ha…, I have to let you know that I still think the same thing. You are an incredible man. You have a lot to offer people.

This is not an end, but a beginning.

OH NOOOOOOO!!!!!

2010-08-04T20:31:00.002-04:00

The move date is set for the 10th. He doesn't want to go try assisted living. Oh Noooooooo!!!!!!!!

It's the Little Things

2010-08-03T08:23:00.003-04:00

At Dad's doctor's office, there is a receptionist with whom I have a like/hate relationship with. I never know what I am going to get upon walking up to the window, the nice her or the mean her. Approximately every two months my Dad has an appointment in this office. His insurance information is exactly the same. However, they want to see each patient's insurance card each and every visit. This makes my Dad a bit insane. His mild natured manner is pressed to the limit as he starts to grumble loudly enough for every person in the waiting room to hear him, "This is ridiculous, nothing's changed, tell them they have it." Before I can turn around, the receptionist yells out the friendly reminder, "I am waiting for his card, it's office policy!". So I step aside, show her that my Dad is now breaking a sweat, unable to find his insurance card because one, he has every single membership card that he's ever received in his life (1954 Army ID included) and two, he has a form of dementia. DUH!!!!! Come on receptionist! I don't know if it was all the other people in the office who gave her the evil eye or if she had a fleeting moment of common sense as she said, "Never mind, it's okay."

Fast forward to the office visit. "Oh, your blood pressure is very high this morning. You must be excited."

People. Gotta love 'em.

The Letter

2010-07-30T18:06:00.006-04:00

Today was all about sitting with Dad's doctor and having her explain what I've been saying to him up until this point. She did beautifully. My personal favorite two sentences of the visit were, "Mr. K, I don't want you to think I am on your daughter's side, I'm not. I am on the right side." She did shortly follow up later with, "I know she seems like a Drill Sargent..." but I didn't have the nerve to correct her and explain that I am actually The General and she is a member of my platoon.

I met with the owner of the moving company for an estimate of the impending move and much to the detriment of my schedule, we connected and shared our stories about caring for aging parents, the lawyers used to keep them safe, and clearing away the debris created by individuals in their lives who don't have their best interests at heart. (Oh, I do love a good run on estimate, I mean, sentence.)

Dad and I held a video chat with his sons and order to get everyone on the same page. I think it went better than I expected. At any rate it was adding two more layers onto his consciousness. If I can get enough layers on there he may suffocate a bit, pass out, and do anything we need him to do.

Three weeks ago I wrote a letter to my Dad explaining his diagnosis and what the next plan of action should be. Today, because he asked me to "just write it down, write down what the doctors are saying", I gave it to him.

Dear Dad,

I have some important information regarding your health that I need to share.

You have been diagnosed with Alzheimer and Parkinson’s diseases. This is traumatic news for you and our family.

Your doctors want to see you socialize and exercise daily for the best overall benefits to your health. Your health is your most valuable asset. The neurologist would like you to start taking a pill to help with your hand tremors, shuffling, and rigid joints.

Living alone is no longer a safe option and your driver’s license is about to be taken away (unless you voluntarily give it up). These are two overwhelmingly difficult situations to face. I know the strength within you and the dignity in which you live your life. Working together, I know that we can turn these two situations from negatives into positives. But it is not going to be easy.

You are a people person and at your best with others. The isolation at home is making things worse for you, not better. Based on the doctor’s recommendation, you need to live at the assisted living facility we have visited for a three-month trial. You can come and go as you please, have overnight guests and host parties. You will have daily exercise, three meals a day and access to a driver. I will be there with you as often as you would like.

Your agreeing to trying the three-month respite will also enable me to regain the strength I have lost during this past year. My own doctor has told me that I need to alleviate the stress of caring for you in the capacity that I have. If I do not, the effects to my heath will be greater than they are currently.

We are each at very big turning points for both our wellbeing.

I love you very much and want to see you live your life as fully as possible. I want you to be safe and taken care of. I want to see you engaged with other people your age and enjoying new activities and experiences. I want you to be happy and safe.

We each need to take hard first steps to meet the changes that are before us. I am never going to leave you. No matter how angry you get with me, I am never going to leave you. Family comes first.

All my love,
Colleen

As I drove away I wanted to collapse in a crying heap. So I drove toward a mocha choca caffeine boosted whip cream topped drink. Next stop: potato pancakes made by the Polish grandmothers at a local church's street carnival. Happiness of late seems to be wherever I eat it.

Sizzle

2010-07-28T20:08:00.004-04:00

Things are getting stressful, everything is converging. More later. But I must confess the idea of committing suicide from eating bacon might be the perfect coping mechanism.

In the Garbage

2010-07-26T19:39:00.011-04:00

I could fly to Europe and stay in five star hotels if I had the money for all the food I've had to throw out at my Dad's house. I steered clear of him all weekend (see last post, party planning - which by the way turned out delicious, a thank you very much) to avoid having him mention "Where are my tickets to Florida?" Allow me to backtrack...

...Friday we had a discussion at his kitchen table that he can no longer live alone, per his doctor. This was the 3rd conversation of the week discussing this topic. His answer was to escape to Florida to see the "girlfriend". This can not happen. So, tomorrow I am sending my partner in to do some dirty work, because, my Dad is a different person when the two of them are together.... Also, I am desperate.

Here is the letter my dear loving partner will get instructing him on how to take the tour of the senior living facility, should he ever make it home from work tonight:

WELCOME TO: YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL FAMILY MISSION

Welcome to THE INNER CIRCLE.

Okay, the deal for tomorrow…

Go in and ask for Allison. (She may want to hug you, beware + just go with it.)

She knows not to stress that Dad is moving in, only thinking about it.

If she says, “when you move in next Wednesday” gently correct her for my Dad to hear you doing so.

Apparently the 3 men we lunched with one month ago (to "warm my Dad up to the place"): Joe, Vernon + Kurt, are excited that my Dad is moving in, they think they swayed him in the right direction.

If you meet these men, know that I have a small crush on each one, in their own little way, and that I sent them thank you notes that they have told their family members about no less than 10 times over and over, and the family members are starting to be curious about me.

Should you be lucky enough to meet these well cared for (religious, brainy, creative) men, ask them if they like living here. At lunch they each said it was the best thing they ever did. Maybe tease and ask:

“So, if Mr. K enjoys having a good time, hates cooking, and loves the ladies… is this a good place for him?”

“How are you really treated here, is this just how Allison acts on tours?”

“How is the food here? How much weight did you gain after you moved in? Mr. K’s children miss his belly + his daughter is secretly jealous that her Dad is thinner than she is…. She wants to fatten him up!”

“Do you ever feel trapped here?”

“Kenny, the driver, what’s the story with that guy? Will he really bring you places?”

“Do you ever get any privacy?”

“How long did it take to settle in?”

“Do you think your family is mean for getting you to come live here?”

“What are the parties like?”

I have every confidence that you will be the most witty and funny man to walk through the halls there. I know you will make my Dad (can we just call him plain old “Dad”? We know whom we are referring to. And while we’re at it, can we use, “Mom” for your Mom. She’s not YOUR Mom. She’s Mom. We each need a Dad and a Mom, so can we just start sharing the only ones each of us has left. Right? Good. Plus for the amount of time I spend talking about him and these issues, it will add hours to our lives together, just eliminating the word “my”, yes, I am aware I talk about him that much.) So, if you keep things funny and light with “Dad”, I think you’ll do swimmingly.

Be sure to see the room on the 3^rd floor he would be taking, it’s near the game room and family/media room. Walk into his empty room and sympathize that there is only one toilet to break and no stove to nag him to be cooking on, but really, with his fabulously talented daughter arranging and decorating, it will be very nice. That there are fewer places to loose his glasses….

Stress the benefits of the “3 month trial” that I am selling him. Find out all about it.

Then in the privacy of the car confess to him how insane our house is and that I live in chronic stress pain and can’t sleep through the night because I worry so much about him and you understand the doctor said it’s unsafe to live alone blah, blah, blah… And you’ve never seen a daughter love her father so much and you can only hope that one day your own daughter decides to put you in senior living as great as this place (or your girlfriend, me, signs you up because she’s so much younger and will live so much longer…. But I digress.) and that she does it before your son can move you into his house, where your ex-wife will already have been living for 2 years and you will have to live a private hell by having to co-habitat with her again after 50 years… And that his daughter’s health is in trouble and even if he can “humor her” with the 3 month trial…

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for volunteering to do this. It means the world to me. And I know it will make a great impact on Dad.

Now, re-read this 8 times and get to bed so I can start playing the pre-recorded audio version of this letter to brainwash you with over the course of the night. Should you ever make it home from work this evening.

I am lucky to know you are mine.

Me.

In the Trenches

2010-07-25T09:02:00.002-04:00

I haven't written in a week and a half because I am down in the trenches. I am at the pivotal point of needing Dad to enter a safer environment, much to his dismay. This is the most difficult thing I think I've ever had to accomplish. But I have no time to fill you in. I have to prepare to have my partner's ex-wife's father + girlfriend, sister + boyfriend, and brother + wife over for a BBQ dinner. If my therapist doesn't check me into an asylum tomorrow, I may have to fire her.

Brain Vacation

2010-07-14T15:46:00.003-04:00

I've done seven hours of paperwork, emails, bill paying, follow up phone calls, and created a master plan to manage the change in life my Dad is about to confront. I took a shower, ate a bowl of cereal, played music and tried to keep a calm and determined focus. I repeatedly glanced at this picture as it is not where, but what I want to be...

Sailing on smooth water, warm from the sunshine, with my man alongside me + nowhere else to be. This past Christmas I had my first break in 14 months. Dad went to visit my brothers 2,700 miles away in Los Angeles for 3 weeks. My goal for that time I labeled "My Andy Williams Christmas by the Fire" and golly gosh, I succeed. This summer I project a similar intention as I work to keep my brain on a state of vacation. "Summer 2010: Underway on the Bow"

When In Doubt, Store Jelly on the Dryer

2010-07-13T18:26:00.013-04:00

When in doubt, store the jelly on the dryer, three rooms away from the refrigerator and when you forget to take your pills at night, just take them all at once in the morning. There is nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. The jelly was on it's way to the recycling bin. Those pills, well, those are just in such confusing containers, who can make sense of them?

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...

2010-07-12T22:15:00.008-04:00

If I ignore my Dad, will he cease to exist?

My strike may not have gotten me anywhere but it has liberated me to take some "me" time. It does feel good to tune out the world and visit with family, buy new shoes, and eat stuffed rigatoni with bacon (really, is there anything that a meal cooked in heavy cream can't fix? My big joke to the waiter was, "I guess it would be illegal for me to go into the kitchen and ask them to crazy glue this to my butt". He laughed and at the top of his lungs, as he cruised across the restaurant, responded, "Ahhahahahahahaaaaaaa, stuffed rigatoni butt! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!)

Butt I digress, (ahahahahahaaaa, get it?....)

I am at a crisis point with my Dad and need to move him into the next phase of his life, which is assisted living. How do I tell a man, that every last thing he worked for is going to disappear? That he will consolidate his four bedroom home into two rooms. That he will give up his driver's license. That he will be removed from his life of solitude.

That he will be surrounded by his peers. That he will have a 6 to 2 ratio of women to men. That he will never have to worry about his next meal. That he will be cared for. That his daughter will no longer have nervous breakdowns.

More later, don't want to ruin the new shoe buzz.

(Photo credit: Simon Howden)

One Door Closes, Another One Slams Shut

2010-07-07T19:27:00.003-04:00

The pseudo strike continues today as I only fielded one call from my Dad, inquiring when my son would fly away for the summer to be with HIS Dad. And I paid his quarterly taxes and followed up on lawyer, doctor and plumbing appointments.

Ah, a day of bliss.

They say when you lose one sense, another is heightened. Being away from my Dad for pretty much a week, I am realizing other things that I've been able to ignore. All the issues in our house, or more appropriately outside of our house. I am a step-mom to two fantastic children. Two fantastic children with an insecure mother who feels threatened by my role in her children's lives. This is an issue that is paramount in nature to the issue with my Dad. I could devote an entire blog to the ongoing drama of this situation. Today was extra packed with strife and has left me exhausted. So much for trying to get away from my normal stress, my old stress popped right back in. I think the best thing for me to do is go to bed. Perhaps my lesson is that I need only focus on myself and ignore every one and every thing else. The everys seem only get me upset and frustrated.

Cooling Off

2010-07-06T15:24:00.004-04:00

It's 105 degrees today and my head is getting kind of mushy and trailing off into mushy thoughts. Until I became a mother, I never understood why my Mom would be happiest when her family was eating. Upon the birth of my son, magically, all the annoying statements my Mom berated me with came flowing effortlessly and without thought from my mouth. Demands such as, "Button your coat", "Eat your vegetables". Life and death warnings of "You'll shoot your eye out", "Do you want it to freeze like that?". Years of aggravation washed away from me upon my own motherhood as I now intrinsically knew that she couldn't help herself from telling me to eat.

What does this have to do with the frustration over my Dad? Last week I swore I was on strike. This morning I found myself in the grocery store filling the cart with food that would within 30 minutes, fill his house. I took a picture of his empty fridge, as if to prove to myself that without my intervention he would perish from malnourishment. His wasting away may have taken years due to the stockpile of Ensure nutritional supplements I left at the house. Eventually the pudding cups, Klondike bars and coffee cakes would have broken down his immune system, I'm sure. That two week old piece of lasagna tucked in the back of the fridge would have at least contributed to dehydration due to a diarrhea attack.

Being at the house, without Dad home, it would appear he's doing fine. What I don't know doesn't annoy me. Maybe he can live alone after all. Maybe there is nothing wrong with his having the air conditioning on and his bedroom widows open, with the screen all the way up. (At least now I know how the bird got in the house 10 months ago.)

So today I acted like the mom I am and left food in a brown bag of surrender.

Dependence Day

2010-07-05T22:52:00.002-04:00

Maybe what I see going on with my Dad's health and the changes that need to accompany those changes are none of my concern. My Dad's life is just that, my Dad's life. His, not mine. Who am I to tell a grown man how he should live his life? Maybe I just need to step aside and wait for the call from the police or hospital or neighbor. Maybe I should just ignore the doctors.

I once had a friend who had a habit I thought he should quit. Had he seen a doctor, they too would have said he needed to quit. Try and try as I did, to get him to quit, it made no difference to him. He had to go through it on his own. Maybe this is the same for my Dad.

Or is it different because he is sick?

Say It With Flowers

2010-07-02T21:37:00.004-04:00

I have been at a stand off with my Dad for near a week. He is refusing to listen to doctor's orders and I don't know how to handle him.

Each time we speak we argue, this has gone on for about two weeks. Ironically I am supposed to be in Los Angeles with my family but cancelled in order to care for my Dad... but, I am on strike. Funny how things work out.

So on my way to Baltimore for a quick overnight, the florist calls. (The florist has my phone number because my Dad went on a massive flower buying spree over the past year. Every corporate florist that sent him a postcard or brochure he would call and order the girlfriend flowers. Some days he would order three arrangements in the same day. These corporate florists having no conscious or common sense to check recent orders, would just charge away on his credit card. He even ordered flowers with his Exxon card somehow. The girlfriend's house must look like the inside of a funeral home. So, knowing a local florist, I set him up with a house account. I then left about 50 printouts with the good florist's phone number all around the house, near the phones. So far it's been working.) "Your Dad called and wants to send you a dozen roses, arranged, but doesn't know where you live." I replied, oh gee, I am not going to be home, and why is he doing this? I don't need $100 in flowers. ($100 in grocery gift cards, yes. Flowers, no.) Sensing my disappointment and concern for a senior citizen's bank account she offered to just read the card. "Dear Colleen, I am very sorry. I appreciate everything you do and love you very much. Love, Dad." Ahhh, men.

I still stay on strike.

The next day he calls and leaves the message, "Colleen, I don't know what I did, but whatever it was, I am sorry. Call me when you can."

Here is the crux of my strike. HE CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT I AM TRYING TO GET HIM TO DO!" (Which is listen to his doctor.) Any and all of my frustration is in vain. The joke is on me.

I call him back, say thanks for the flowers (or the idea of them) and he goes right into complaining that the shower water doesn't get hot enough.

So much for my strike.

Climb Every Mountain

2010-06-30T14:45:00.009-04:00

Or do nothing at all.

I first thought it was burnout. But upon further simmering, I don't know if I am able to have fun anymore. Last week I cancelled our first vacation in 5 years with my family. Today the kids were having rambunctious fun and I told them to calm down. Every request and question is making me crazy today. In an hour we are supposed to be going to the shore for the boardwalk rides, our favorite pizza, and to see our niece + her husband.

I intended to sit down and write about how my Dad is digging his heels in claiming his right to freedom (i.e. staying in his house and continuing to drive despite doctor's request to discontinue driving). I intended to vent on how caring for my Dad was making me feel unable to care for anyone, namely my own modern-blended family. I was summoning the nun's voice from The Sound of Music as I sang around the house (although I don't know any other lyric than the title of the song - that in itself may have been cause for frustration). "Climb every mountain! Blah blah blah blah blah.... blah blah blah blah."

CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN (The Sound of Music) from wenarto on Vimeo.

Pédaler dans la choucroute.
Pedal stuck in sauerkraut.

It's that kind of day.

PB (Post Blog): Proof of that kind of day.... The census bureau called to do follow up questions. "No, none of my children were staying in assisted living facilities on April 1st." Can I get on with my annoying day now?

My Firefly

2010-06-29T11:32:00.000-04:00

Last night at dusk, while sitting on the porch eating a medicinal ice cream sundae, the fireflies were out. I have had a particular fondness for fireflies ever since I was a little girl. They are magical. They are temporal. They are a sign of my favorite season.

If I am busy doing chores or caught up in my life and not looking around, I miss the fireflies. They may be flickering just outside my window, but if I am not still enough to stop and watch for them, I will not see them.

Last night the fireflies took on a new significance in relation to my Dad. He has good days and bad days. He remembers all the details in one sentence and forgets all in the next. He is on, he is off. He is not going to be around forever. He has reached a season of his life that is his last. If I am unable to stop the hectic whirl of my life for even brief glimpses, I will miss his twinkling moments that make me feel, for one more time, like my Daddy's little girl.

He's Gonna Do What He's Gonna Do

2010-06-28T18:45:00.000-04:00

Another day of summer vacation and up at 6 a.m. to pick up Dad at his house and get him to his place of business. Doctor's orders, no more driving. Yawn, yawn, yawn.... Walking through his door only to hear, "What are we wasting all this gas for?" I expected him to be crabby but I did not expect my reaction. "Go ahead then, drive yourself, make yourself happy. I wash my hands of any responsibility to your car crash." Then I zipped down the driveway and lurked around the corner in order to follow him the ten minutes of country road, highway and onto Main Street USA to make sure he made the journey alive. Alive he was as he called me to apologize, for what is going on the 8th day in a row. I was unable to talk with him and much to my son's disgust, hope he gets massive diarrhea from eating the food that is left in his house from last week's grocery run. If he wants to be stubborn, I am no person to stop him. If it is a parent's wish to have their children be smarter, more talented, better looking than they were, then, I am more stubborn than he could ever be. It's a simple matter of evolution. No fresh groceries for him! (At least until tomorrow anyway.)

His doctor's diagnosis has arrived. Of course I went to pick up the phone 22 times today and call him, only to remain steadfast in my sleep-deprived rage. Ah, I did it, I organized the fruits in my fridge instead.

Only, I arrived home to a greeting card from his girlfriend, with a check for a gift I sent her. Delighted and annoyed, another thing to add to the To-Do list, a thank you note, to the person who hasn't figured out why it is NOT funny that my Dad can't find his way to the mall or to the church. To the person my Dad wants to bedazzle with the jewelry that once belonged to my Mother.

The blogging hasn't had time to take effect yet. I am drinking wine and trying to forget. Nine hours until tomorrow, technically enough time to get to the airport and buy a one-way ticket to anywhere.

Banking and Bible Quotations

2010-06-26T20:58:00.000-04:00

Today it was driving home from the bank and hearing, "I've got friends, friends you aren't going to approve of." WHAT?!?!?!?! I proceeded to question my Dad: How long have you known them, Where do they live, Where do you see them? My son, from the backseat interjected amid my Dad's silence and aggravation, "Mom, if you were a cat, you'd be dead by now." "Why?" He replied, "Because curiosity killed the cat."

Mystery friends?!?!?!

My dad started quoting bible stories, I have never heard him even say the word "bible" prior to today. He was completely confused by the process of adding me to his safe deposit box today. It took us two hours to look through the 12 papers in the safe deposit box and explain to him what was going to happen if he added me.

Quote of the day from the lovely, diplomatic bank representative: "And the second option would still allow access in event of, if you should ever, well, possibly die. IF???????? POSSIBLY??????? There is no question of "if" but "when". I was once again reminded how thankful I am that I took all my money out of this bank years ago. "If" people die...

Things Can Always Get Worse

2010-06-25T22:15:00.000-04:00

I was worrying sick over Dad's "girlfriend" (I can't say "old girlfriend" - sounds like they dated before.... I can't say "geezer friend" - it paints a picture of a man with a Rumpelstiltskin beard sitting on a porch on a hot summer's day, but I must confess that the word "girlfriend" connotates an entirely inappropriate and unwholesome image for a woman in her mid 80's, especially in relation to my Dad, but I digress) only to learn that, silly me, he has more than 1, er, "girlfriend"! But, he won't tell me a thing about this, in his own word, "companion".

I need to go to bed because the rate at which I learn things is more than I can bear at this moment.

I've Threatened Too Long

2010-06-25T21:46:00.000-04:00

I've threatened too long to create a blog where I would blog the one wacko, off in left field, out of body experience, is this really my life moment from the day. I've lost over two years of material by not acting on my threat.

To get you up to speed, my Mom died 1 and 1/2 years ago at the age of 69. Since then, I have taken over for her and managed my Dad, now aged 79. My Mom was a fabulous wife. Part June Cleaver, part Roseanne Barr. My Dad never had a care in the world. Fresh clean clothes magically appeared in his drawers, perpetual warm meals would descend on the table around six, the yard would be kept up, and cleaning was never ever seen, wise cracks at every turn. He lived a life of ignorant bliss in a time warp that no longer exists. I feel fortunate to have lost my job to the recession which has enabled me to care for him and get his affairs in order. It was nine months ago that I realized something was not as it should be. At first I thought the issue between us was that I am a modern woman and he is an antiquated man. The issue was just that he didn't WANT to do anything for himself. It was nine months ago that the Alzheimer's was unable to be ignored. The issue is now that he CAN'T do things for himself.

If I don't laugh, I will cry. Come along with me. Blogging HAS to be healthier than drinking.