My sister Chrissy and I met at my dad’s the other day around 1:30 to take him to his doctor’s appointment. He was in good spirits and ready to go. As I explained in earlier posts he’s been very confused and angry of late and we’re trying to figure out if it’s because he’s moved in to another level of Alzheimers or if it’s due to the infection he had in his lungs and the resulting weakness plus all the medicine he was on. We were hoping that it wasn’t the Alzheimers progressing.

We handed dad his Cadillac, as he calls his walker, and we were out the door.

I don’t know why but I was surprised at the way he said the same things to Chrissy that he says to me when we’re alone. “This car sure is nice. Nice ride. Look at all the cars and trucks. Wow, they really like to fly down this road.”

I found myself thinking that those moments where I thought dad was pretty lucid were still attached to the Alzheimers. The repetition of the same words or at least sentiment. He calls my truck a ‘buggy’ and Chrissy’s car a ‘car’ but other than that you could have switched out the conversations and not missed anything.

Waiting in the exam room, I handed dad a People magazine to look at. He flipped through it and started making comments on all the “pretty girls”.

“Wow, this gal has some nice ______________________ (fill in with your favorite body part).” he’d say turning the magazine around so we could see too.

All the time growing up my father never uttered so much as an off-color joke or made comments about a woman’s appearance but Alzheimers has changed all that. It makes my sister uncomfortable especially when dad forgets she’s related to him. It’s almost as if he thinks she’s mom. He often repeats conversations that he used to say to mom.

“I love you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head . . . and everything in between.”

Chrissy’s gently reminds him, “I love you too, dad.”

I try to focus on the moment and not let uncomfortable feelings get in the way - to just be mindful of the situation and all it entails. Instead of wanting to run away from the awkwardness of emotions, I find by observing my feelings and thoughts like a disinterested 3rd party it’s much easier to accept the reality of the situation. It also allows room for seeing some humor.

When the doctor came in, dad told him that he’d been upset with himself. When the doctor asked what about, dad said, “Everything just seemed jumbled up. I had things I needed to do but I didn’t do them and I didn’t know what to do.”

It was kind of strange how he was aware of his confusion and agitation but he couldn’t stop the emotions. Not a whole lot different from a lot of people I know.

The doctor made small talk with dad, asking him where he was from, what he’d done in life, etc. Dad told him about growing up in Abilene, Kansas and that he lived just a few houses down from Dwight Eisenhower’s family. On several occasions Mrs. Eisenhower baked cookies and gave some to dad. I couldn’t help but think of all the things he’s done in his life.

The doctor ordered some blood work & x-ray and left the room. Sitting on the exam table dad had his shirt off while waiting for the nurse to come in. He looked down at himself and laughed, “Holy cow, I have man boobs! I don’t want the girls to see these.”

We told him to sit up straight and pull his shoulders back like when he was in the Army. He did, looked down again and remarked, “Oh, that’s better. The girls can look at me now!”

The upshot of the visit was that dad was in reasonably good shape and the doctor thought that his confusion was probably due to the lingering infection.  No doubt the alzheimers will progress in time but for now I’ll take the good news and the humor of sitting in a doctor’s office with my dad.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 13th, 2008 at 10:50 am and is filed under Alzheimer's, family, mindfulness.