tuck -n-roll

The anti-biotic poison prescribed by the dentist solved the swollen jaw. The swelling went down and he has not complained about the teeth since. He still thinks he can do without any assistance. I was reading in the living room when he stood up, put his coffee cup on the walker and headed for the kitchen. He had been sitting in a low chair that I did not think he could get out of without help. I jumped up just in time for him to fall backwards. His strong grip held the walker for a flip over him as he rolled on his back. The coffee cup flew into the next room. Recall that he has fractured his back in the past. As I looked for protruding bones or signs of severed nerves, he rolled on his side and asked, "Well, are you going to help me up or not?"

Always something

The latest is that his face is swollen. There is not much pain, but we are guessing it is a tooth infection. Antibiotics started today. It is also the 13th. day without a bowel movement but with three different poisons that are supposed to blow one apart having been taken daily. It is very difficult for him to walk and his body won't follow his words. He is confused most of the time. The past two nights he has not slept well, about 3-4 hours each night. The good news is that we have piles of snow.

Still There

I was wrong to title the last blog, gone. His body is shot, and he rambles nonsense most of the time (which is what I meant by gone) but occasionally (if one listens long and well) there is a spark.
Carl challenged him to a cribbage match. Dad hesitated briefly and said that he was thinking more of ping pong.
All candidates for election in our county must have been affiliated with farming. One add shows the guy walking around talking about how he will fix all our ills. Dad commented that if he was such a good farmer how come he is standing around in the field and not home milking.
After watching our 378th political ad; " I think anyone trying to get elected to public office, shouldn't be."

Gone

The rash is still visible, but not as red and angry looking. He has not scratched for two days. It seems to be a six day attack. For two days his sides hurt and it was sore to touch. He is sleeping more each day. For two nights he was in bed for 11 hours. Sometimes he is up sitting on the edge of the bed and then rolls back into bed to sleep. He smiled at me this morning and called me by name and seemed genuinely happy to see me and then quickly started complaining and calling me names. And he thanked me for breakfast. So there are still some good times.

Again

This is the fifth day of the latest rash. This one covers his upper body, both sides, top and bottom. It itches and prevents sleep. We have not got any satisfaction in the past other than creative guesses from the medical wizards so we are doing our own doctoring for now. A spot on his shoulder has gone away so there is still hope.

embers

Dad only shows anger to me. I can quess what he may be feeling but only unwelcome words or actions come my way. He does however show more to the females on watch. Sometimes after a reprimand he actually sheds tears. And sometimes laughs.
He spent the afternoon yesterday composing this note to the Gilmores. And he had Meg put out $25 to buy flowers. The note says, "Condolences from the Merrills to the Gilmores. Albert, rest in peace. We had many good times together."

Push Back

Whatever we suggest, order, scream, etc. Dad seems to pursue the opposite. Tell him to remove his hand from the bar to the walker and he will grip harder. Tell him to move his feet back and they may or may not move at all. He still swears too much, gripes about everything, and never seems happy when I'm around.
He fell again. His legs give out and he slumps backward. When he tries to walk we stand behind him ready to lift. The second he starts to fall back and we touch him he leans even more backward into the touch. Then he hollers, "Don't touch me."
His back hurts again and he has a definite list to his right. Try to straighten him up and he hollers. Last night when I took this picture he was adamant that he was sitting straight.

Amazing

Dad has been much more pleasant lately. Except for the afternoons. There is a period of late afternoon, early evening when he is anxious, hostile, and full of new words not repeatable. For instance when I showed up at 6pm he sat sullenly, throwing putdowns to me about not doing my job. He got up with the walker to the kitchen and sat in the wrong chair. His evening place setting was moved to fit his chair. He pushed it all back where it usually is and then tried to change chairs. All the while he is almost falling. When ever I would touch him to keep his balance he would cuss me out. He got up to go to the sink and wrestled with the walker. When he tried to sit he missed and I lost my patience. So I carried him back to the chair. From then on the rest of the evening he was most kind. Cousin, David, came and Dad was talkative and kind. He minded his manners the rest of the evening, slept all night through, woke up with manners (thank yous, but never requests or pleases). When Heather Merrill came in about 8am she was on the phone with Andy in Afganistan. Dad talked with him and for the most part made sense. He remembered from yesterday that it was Andy's day to get a shower (each 4th day) and asked him how it went.

Monday

This is the closest I could get to a smile. We spend a lot of time sitting in the sun this wkend. He was having a difficult time walking. Yet last night he managed to leave his bed and walk the walker to the bathroom (with the wheels locked and the bell balanced on a wire.)

Good Day

This is just before breakfast of fried egg, bacon, toast, juice, coffee, jam. Yesterday he did not eat much else. We tried to get him to smile with all our magic tricks, but I think the smile mechanism is broken. And it is all downhill from here the rest of the day. By late afternoon he is restless, agitated, miserable and almost uncontrollable.
The purpose of this blog is give you all a sense of what Dad is going through as he ages. But just as we all feel like what is happening to us is unique, it isn't. It seems as I talk and listen "old" there are many similar stages and experiences. Abilities go away, muscles atrophy, memories fade, swearing increases, help is never solicited, things get thrown, and they are always right. We are lucky so far that all bodily functions are working and he is able to stay out of the hospital.

Good Times

Dad is living with TV reality. He will tell me how I missed the excitement in town when the car hit the house and the boys were arguing. Usually it is the most recent show he was watching, like Everybody Loves Raymond. His speech is clear most of the time now, but his words are mostly nonsense. It is kind of cool that he puts me in the center of the heroic roles. I was the high scorer in the NBA game. It was me that scored the winning goal. I won the gold in the downhill. I hope he spreads the word in the right places and Nike calls.
He is usually compliant with our caregiving if done slowly and gently. When shoved quickly (like to keep him from missing the chair) he can recall many harsh words. He has red rashs and open sores where the sun does not shine. We put on fungus cream, then anti-biotic cream, and the thing that works is bag balm that is used on cows. He said to thank the cow that shared her cream with him.
Public Health has visited a few times. One nurse to type on her computer for an hour, another nurse to suggest a wide belt to hold him up while walking, another visit to have him do some exercises (mostly things like Shawn White does with his snowboard) to help with circulation. He is not going to get any other public help because we can take care of the house and him. Others do not have his financial resources to pay for help and there is no government place for the elderly.
All of his systems are working fine except the brain. He recognizes people and says their names and speaks nonsense with authority. His body is getting weaker, muscles deteriorating, etc. He will be 96 in two weeks.

Wondering

We had an evaluation by a public health nurse to get suggestions on how to make Dad more comfortable and how to make moving him around easier for us. So far they have sent two people to put all his data in a computer. The only suggestion we have is a wide mesh belt that we can hold while moving him.
He is listing to the right today. It is his left leg that has been swollen for years. He can not walk any more without help close by to catch him when he falls. He stood from his chair a few nights ago and sat back down on the floor with his legs straight. When I asked if he was happy now he said he would be happier if he was in his own home. Some times he is totally confused and then he will make sense for a while. The TV is in his reality. During the Olympics people were skating in the driveway - we had to get down off the mountain to go to bed.
Last night he slept from 6-9pm. I woke him up to put him to bed where he slept until 6am. Then back to sleep until 8:30. After breakfast and a shower he slept most of the morning. I remember trying to find a pattern and/or a reason. Now I just wonder at it all.

Trottin horses

I learned a new phrase this week. It was in relation to not being able to stretch my left hand fingers long enough for a B chord. My music guru said to leave it out and that one chord missing would not be significant enough in the total song to be "seen from a trottin horse."
That's where Dad's condition is lately. In the grand song of life it is typical, but it makes my harmonious life a bit flat. Today he is telling about the tree that fell on a car hood. Many were hurt. There may still be blood on the car. The details of this tale are endless and there is an urgency expressed that I should be faster on coming to the rescue. These stories are all like a nightmare. I hope when my mind goes "trottin'" that the flashes of memory are of sun, trees, and painting in the woods.

A Maze ing

Dad has not been in the same reality as the majority in quite a few days. He seems to be worried about something most of the time. Right now it is an imaginary tree across the road that he explained in detail what I should be doing about it.
Yet last evening a high school friend of mine who Dad had not seen in 50 years came with me to the house. He introduced himself and shook Dad's hand. Dad responded with "oh, you're the main man at the Watertown Daily Times newspaper." Now where was that connection stored in his brain and why.

Enigmatic Conundrums

Dad has always seemed to me to be less dogmatic than I am. He is more inclined to keep his opinions or values to himself. "Go along and get along with others." Now he is absolutely positive; without question; with lots of swearing; sure that: He has two wallets, not one. There is a chimney to be fixed and I am (not repeatable) for not fixing it. He is not home and I am holding him prisoner somewhere. He traded cars. No one is feeding him. He just went to the bathroom. The toilet is in the middle of the living room.

The good news is that he is so frail and light now that when I tire of humoring him I just lift him whatever direction we need to go.

He knows most people that come into the house by name. But then his conversation is not based on the present or real events.

He does not speak of Mom or Judy anymore like he used to.

TV does not entertain, it just confuses him. There were two hysterical drunks walking around in the house a few nights ago. I tried to explain that I was the only one and I wasn't shouting. Then the NBA coach was shown and he said, "There he
is!"

His left side was affected by the long ago stroke. His left ankle is about 1/4 larger with fluid, but it is his right side that appears to be getting weaker. His right hand is turning inward. He vears to the right when walking. When he falls, it is the right side that gives out.

I stopped in with groceries and he had to get up and come to the kitchen to tell me the bad stuff that he was going to do. It was nice that he feels the need to welcome visitors, but not so nice to be called names when I was bringing in the good stuff. As I left I caught the swearing at me because I wasn't staying to visit. Tonight he will sleep in his chair for a few hours and then sleep 9 hours in bed. There is no more conversation.

He does not have any opinion of what happens after death. In fact I think he believes that is something that happens to everyone else but him. Yet the only paper he reads are the obituaries. And he will tell me the name of the one we know.
And after a period of hostile swearing he will be polite and thankful.

I think I now have the mystery solved of why Dad behaves as he does. His brain is trying to put the puzzle together, but he has two puzzle parts from 50 different puzzles.

Where oh where?

The past few days have Dad wondering where he is. Why is he a prisoner? Why did we move his house? Can I get the car and take him home? When I asked him where he thought he was, he cursed me and said he was in "God's Kingdom." I was hoping for more of a visual description for my next painting, but that was all he had. I think he gets sick of me on the weekends. There isn't much on tv to interest him, and we do not have much of a conversation. Although he does like my guitar playing and is insisting that I sing more. So we do share that (off-key vocalization in no part harmony) His comment was that a house is better with a female in it.

He has fallen twice lately but seems no worse for it. He is still independent minded but almost totally dependent on help that he will not ask for or purposefully ignore. Such as the suggestion that he release the wall rail if he plans to walk away. Then I tap his hand. Then he curses. Then I try to pry his hand away. Although his other muscles are leaving quickly, the grip is powerful.

He did recognize two visitors today, but did not have any sensible things to say. I imagine the brain cells as chemical connections that have billions of possibilities. So if some of them work a partial understanding will emerge. If other "noise" or unrelated connections mingle in then the resulting outcome gets tangled also. Some of his tales will have a fact mixed in with many unrelated tall tales. When I give him a command and he does not perform, it may be that from hearing to untangling the brain, to ordering the body is just taking longer. When my patience gives out (1.2 seconds) and I holler the command, he will holler back, "I'm trying".

Today I was painting the living room ceiling. He offered to butter me a slice of bread and wondered if there was anything he could do to help. It is good when parts of the old Dad come back.

Visit with Grandpa

Grandpa is definitely "less" than he was when we last saw him a few months ago.  He's physically smaller, less animated, and you can hear him struggling for breath sometimes.  That said, he still moves himself along dangerously quickly with the walker, was generally alert and witty when we visited with him, and fights for his independence.  For example, he'll wait until Dad has left the room before deciding he needs to get up out of the chair by himself.  There were definitely moments of confusion, but they were often covered over quickly - he asked Peter "Is this my table?" "Yes - it's in your kitchen." "Hrumph.. well, must be mine then." 

Teacher Habits

Dad is mostly not rooted in the same realty that I am. But whenever I bark a command to get through his lethargy he will have an important response to educate me. It goes like this: "Standup" (in my almost Marine voice) Response: "There are a lot of bad people out there and you shouldn't get mixed up with them." (probably from the tv.
He doesn't know where he is most of the time or what time of day it is. Since we never see the sun that doesn't help. He is often worrying about daily tasks that he has not handled for years. Is the furnace working? Did we pay the bill for fixing the car? When are we going home?