Is this Christmas?

Yesterday morning, I heard Dad's walker clicking around at the usual time. I met him in the library with a cup of coffee.

He grimaced a bit as he was sitting down, looked up at me and said: "Is this Christmas?" I calmly responded: "Nope, it's June."

As I've mentioned before, the maddening thing about dementia is that in its early stages, the "patient" drifts in and out of lucidity. There are days when Dad seems crystal clear on everything. There are other times, like this moment, when I know that I'm the one who's not losing it.

I feel a little guilty saying this, but those moments are reassuring to me. Why? Because sometimes I feel like we're jumping through an awful lot of hoops for two people who would MUCH rather be in their own home. I feel like I'm literally holding them captive against their will.

But then Mom will need daily help sorting through her medications and Dad will take a left turn into Crazy Town and I get an instant reminder of why we are doing what we are doing.

I'm not saying we are doing it well. As I tell people, we are simply the last, best option.

If this is Christmas, where are my presents?