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?