My Dad had a heart attack in 2007 and things have been deteriorating ever since. It's to the point I don't even tell people my Dad is doing badly - because it's getting old. I mean - those of you who were concerned about how my Dad was doing in 2011 are probably wondering how much longer I'm going to work this.
I haven't had the misfortune of watching many people deteriorate in my life. Call my lucky - but it also makes me naive. Every time I am convinced my Dad couldn't get any worse he manages to deteriorate even further.
I thought it was bad when he couldn't do anything without a walker. I thought it was bad when he did a complete faceplant at the viewing of a friend of his a couple of years ago - making no effort to break the fall. I thought he had to be dying soon when he inexplicably got in a car and started driving around the neighborhood - slamming into two other cars and into a curb before police got control of the matter. When he drove his scooter into the wall at the assisted living facility it was bad. Seeing my Dad wearing Depends made me sad. But I'm only scratching the surface of all of the things that have gone wrong over the past few years.
I saw him less than two months ago. It wasn't pleasant. He went in and out of coherency. At different points in the day he looked at my daughter and asked her point blank "how long have you been looking like a boy?" He got tired quickly that day - we were celebrating my Mother's Birthday. But at least he had moments of lucidity.
There were no such moments on Thanksgiving.
He's been removed from the assisted living facility and he's now in a place designed for Alzheimers patients - but NOT designed for patients that need the kind of care he does.
The first thing I noticed was his spine - he was hunched over like a C. It wasn't like that 7 weeks ago - I would have noticed. He's 72, he looked past 90. He couldn't sit himself up.
I didn't have to worry about him insulting my kids (albeit with no malice) - because I'm not sure he recognized them. He sat in a chair and yelled. "WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME" and we'd try and rearrange him and he'd say it was better and we'd sit down and he'd yell it again "I NEED HELP! CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!" and my Mom would tell him we're doing all we can and he'd yell at her like a baby "NO YOU'RE NOT, IF YOU WERE I WOULDN'T FEEL SO BAD." She told him we'd be leaving soon and he could sleep..."YOU'VE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR AN HOUR NOW - CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME?" There was no rationalizing - there was no conversation. He didn't understand that Jocelyn made National Honor Society or that Jojo made Honor roll. He didn't understand the music Jocelyn was working on for her philharmonic group - even though my Dad had been playing that type of music most of his life.
He had scars and bumps all over his face - I assume from falling out of bed but I didn't ask. His color looked awful.
It ended mercifully after 39 minutes. We took him back to his room - past an area where it smelled putrid because another resident had made a mess on the floor. This is NOT a low-rent facility mind you - there's just no way anyone could keep up. His room was nice - and it is a single room. But he's beyond appreciating anything. This is a man with zero quality of life. I wouldn't wish what he's going through on anybody.
I'll never take my kids to see him again - they don't deserve to have such awful memories of their grandfather - and he doesn't seem to recognize them anymore.
We left and had a nice dinner at a local restaurant. I was too shocked to process what I had just seen. I heard my Mom say that today was tame compared to other days - that she hears him screaming from outside the facility sometimes. That he's horrible with the staff and to her. I heard it - but it didn't stick.
It didn't stick on Black Friday either.
But today I finally broke down. I was making pasta and meatballs...I thought it would be nice to put my mind on something. Then I just started crying.
I cried because my Mom is dealing with this pretty much alone - I feel like I should be doing so much more - but I don't know where to start.
I feel bad because my relationship with my parents is so damn stiff. We don't hug - we never have. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I hug my Father or my Mom?
I'm sad because this can go on for a long time. His vital signs - their fine - his mind is gone...His body is completely failing him - but he's not facing imminent death. We could replay a similar scene in a year..in two years. And I cried because I just want to believe that there's a God that's going to spare him any more suffering - but there's nothing but silence at the other end of the prayer line. We have mercy on animals whose body is failing them - but we let people wither away for years. My Dad is leaving with no dignity.
I cried because my Dad has never been a very happy man.
He's hated himself - and he never learned to cope well with stress. He would fly off the handle so easily - but rarely was the anger directed at anyone in particular. He had a pure heart. He gave quietly and regularly to charities. He did a million thankless behind-the-scenes job for the church and never asked for nor would he accept praise. He wasn't a perfect Father - but who is? And this much is certain: I NEVER wanted for anything.
He could speak to almost anything my Dad. He had a PHD in Astronomy but for the most part he hated mentioning it, he certainly never asked anyone to refer to him as "Dr." - because he felt like his career was a colossal failure. He paid his bills on time. He worked at jobs he hated because he had a family - just like a lot of people do. He was brilliant - smarter than I could ever dream of being. But his brilliance only made him miserable - he always felt he should be more. He never felt comfortable around most people. He had few friends. He wasn't very good with kids - it's not that he didn't like them, he just wasn't comfortable talking at a lower level. He had trouble concentrating - so loud kids got him angry. He spazzed out at a few of my friends - but he always apologized. Still - I largely kept my friends away from home. It was easier than explaining that my Dad wasn't angry at anyone but himself.
I wanted to talk to him for years. To tell him that I thought he did OK. That I never saw him take short cuts, that I never saw him do anything dishonest, that I admired his willingness to fly in the shadows. He put my Mom through seminary so she could have a second career. He put me through college without loans. He helped me more as an adult than I care to admit. I did OK when they passed out Fathers. I did damn well. He deserved to hear that.
But I never said it - and for the life of me I can't explain why. And I cry hardest for my missed opportunity to do the right thing.
On Monday a lot of people are going to ask how my Thanksgiving was, and I'm going to smile and say "it was nice." Because that's what you do.
Why am I blogging this? Because when I looked at Facebook on Thanksgiving it hurt. The truth is I feel like I'm failing most of the time I look at Facebook but I've worked through most of my inadequacies. But this Thanksgiving - I just wanted to be living the life that so many people were portraying - I never know how "Real" the posts on Facebook are.
I know I'm not alone when I say I had a pretty shitty Thanksgiving. I know that 75% of the world would trade life situations with me in a heartbeat. I know people have parents who are in situations similar to my Dad - or God forbid have sick children.
And if you're Thanksgiving sucked - I'll say it once again. You aren't alone.
I hope it helps in some way to hear that.
