My sister is down in Illinois, sorting through furniture to move to my parents' new apartment and making a valiant attempt to clean up their house so that she and her family can finally move in. She arranged for carpet cleaners to come on Monday. Several years ago, my parents recarpeted the living room. In that living room, was a large armoire. When the carpet cleaner moved it away from the wall, she discovered that THEY HAD CARPETED AROUND THE ARMOIRE. That's right. Under the armoire is old carpet. Who does that?! I told my sister: "I think we've discovered the beginning of the dementia."
In the meantime, I've turned into the Water Nazi with Dad. Since he was found to have too low of a blood pressure, we were told that he needed to hydrate more. And so I follow him around telling him to drink water. In response, he nods in agreement and promptly ignores me. Yesterday, he pretended that his Fresca was a glass of water. If I hadn't picked up his glass and noticed that it was cloudy, he would have gotten away with it.
Seriously, he doesn't care at all to listen to anyone. Doesn't matter if we warn him that he needs to do something in order to stay healthy, get stronger, improve the quality of his life. He does not care. He's using the logic of a toddler. I'm not being mean. I'm being truthful.
Yesterday, Dad had his appointment with the neuro PT. We were sitting in the waiting room prior to the appointment. He looked at me and said: "Karen, what am I complaining about?" Geez, Dad. That's a loaded question. What AREN'T you complaining about? But what he meant was to ask why he was there. I explained that the PT will address his poor/wonky gait. And she did...and he was fine...while under her watch...and then went back to his old habits the minute we left that office.
I'm terrified what will happen when I can't see what Dad is doing all the time. Yesterday, after breakfast, he started walking toward the bathroom with his bowl full of leftover milk and the few Cheerios that were floating in it. I stopped him and asked what he was doing. "What do you think? I'm dumping this down the toilet so it doesn't clog the sink." I said: "Dad, we don't do that." He replied: "What are you talking about? We do that all the time. I thought it was a nice gesture." Huh, what? I told Mom about this exchange and she was equally mystified, but she actually doesn't notice these things like I do. What if he starts doing odd things like this in assisted living? What if he starts doing them so often that they question his safety?
These are the things that keep me up at night. These are the things that make me think that we're headed for trouble. God, I hope I'm wrong, but this is what I worry about....constantly.
Here's a peek inside my brain right now: "What if they don't like it? What if they don't find nice people there? What if the staff isn't kind/nice/helpful to them? What if the food isn't good? What if Dad gets all crazy there? What if they get lost going to the dining hall? What if assisted living facilities are cliquey? What if Dad gets lost IN the apartment and falls? What if I lose my mind driving down there constantly? What if they call me all the time because they're confused or worried about something? What if they can't figure out how to work the remote for the TV? What if the finances fall through? What if one or both of them becomes seriously ill? What if they/we just can't make it all work?"
This feels just like sending my kids off to college...only worse.
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