Keep calm and carry on

So Mom took me aside yesterday to tell me that Dad is hatching an escape plan. He's decided it's time to go back home. Apparently, the first part of the plan involves writing down my sister's phone number. (Not sure what that's going to do, but, OK. Sis, consider yourself forewarned.)

Mom said she re-explained to him that he can't take care of himself. Somehow they ended up with this compromise: Every day they are going to write on the calendar how they are feeling. One day at a time. (Again, not sure what that's going to do, but OK.)

This brought up my newest dilemma: How do I deal with situations like this? When someone with dementia hatches a plan like this, what's the best way to respond?

A) Sit down and calmly explain AGAIN that there has been a dementia diagnosis and that living alone is not an option.
B) Acknowledge the escape plan and offer an alternative.
C) Keep calm and carry on, i.e. ignore the escape plan and know that this too shall pass.
D) All of the above.

Hubby and I had a LONG discussion about this. No, I do not want to attend a support group meeting. I seriously just need to call 1-800-DEMENTIA and ask how I handle such a situation. My first instinct is to treat Dad with the utmost respect, acknowledge his wishes and explain why they cannot be granted.

The problem with that approach is that it means re-introducing the dementia diagnosis and, for some reason, just doing that seems to induce confusion and anger. I don't need angry and confused Dad. I need happy and content Dad. He's easier to deal with.

Offering an alternative seems to open him up to the possibility that there's a chance I'll spring him from this suburban prison. Sure, there's a chance, but there's no other place to offer. If I could give them some independence, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Right now, it's not happening.

So, we're going with option C - Keep calm and carry on. I will pretend that I don't know about the escape plan and continue to offer HD TV, yummy meals, gentle scolding and sub-par accommodations.

Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all.