Welcome to a New Year -- Oh, Yeah?

I haven't written since last October! Well, that's when the sh*t really started flying, and I've been busy dodging bullets, so-to-speak.

But in the meantime, the one remaining pair of age-related friends of Hunk and Bitchy have also become friends of mine. And they want to stay abreast of the news with my parents. Here is the text of a response letter I sent to them, which will bring our story up-to-date here as well:

...Dear Friends,

Happy to oblige with the fill-in, and grateful to be able to be candid. Even if my mom were to discover what I'm sharing (which I would prefer she did not), it either a) wouldn't be remembered for long, or b) wouldn't cause much more of an uproar than most of my errant steps over these last two years and five months. Or, if it did, I guess I'd just take my lumps and be grateful to get the boot back to California, if it came to that.

I will say though, if you believe in such things, you might put in a word to the "Big Guy" that fetching one of them "Home" sooner, rather than later, might not be a bad idea for any of us.

My dad continues to have a great sense of humor, and his primary goal in life seems to be to see "if there is anything I can get for you, my darling" [spoken to Bitchy]. He keeps plodding along in his slow, deliberate way, traversing the house with tiny steps on his unknown errands. (I am content to let him go about his business without distraction, though my mother will usually interrupt him, micro-managing his every move with demands of "what do you want, Hunk?" or "where are you going?" or "what are you doing, and why don't you just sit down!") He is not fully incontinent yet, though his use of Depends is essential to minimal hygiene. He has continuous trouble with his partial dentures which makes every meal a bothersome adventure, interrupted by trips (with me or one of my helpers...never mom) to the bathroom to remove the offending device and clean out the debris, before going back to the table to try again. He often abandons his meal mid-way, either because he's actually full after three or four bites, or just fed up with the garbage that collects under the bridge, or the pressure mom puts on him to eat another bite, or not to put his tissues there! or to pick up the sandwich with your hands, Hunky (who uses a fork to eat a sandwich??) or to change his expression because the one he's wearing makes her think there's something wrong!

His Parkinson's disease (which is partially responsible for that facial "mask") is also getting worse -- it accounts for a lot of his uneasy, slow, and halting gait, but it also impedes his digestive system, and the other day he was incredibly upset by a piece of macaroni stuck in his throat. He wanted (nearly) to go to the emergency room to find a doctor who could fix the problem. Well, it just had to work its way down, and getting him to drink water didn't happen easily and didn't help much. Time was all we could rely on. But later (after an inquiry) the nurse said he should pretty much be on a liquid and soft food diet now. (Try and get Bitchy to follow those guidelines!!!!)

On sleep, with him retiring to bed at the early hour of 6:30 most nights, it's almost to be expected he'll be up in the wee hours, wandering. Apparently, it's common among people with Alzheimer's. And since I've begun latching my door so he can't just burst right in while I'm fast asleep, he rarely knocks long or loud enough to wake me. So, no doubt, he is upsetting Binnie's sleep -- probably big-time. I'm not so far from child-rearing that I don't remember sleep deprivation. And I sympathize with her. But she is right in the same bed with him, and he is her "darling of 67 years" so I would expect her to be the one most willing to help him with his night-time needs. I don't know how she handles it, but the sound of her voice most mornings gives a hint of something sour.

And, alas, when she is trying to hold onto sleep in the morning, or later when she is watching her loud, bad-news or daytime talk shows, or if she's just in a rotten mood from receiving too much attention from him (and not enough from anyone else), or overwhelmed with impatience, being unable to understand what he wants or what he's trying to verbalize, and unwilling to wait for him to work it out, her responses can be downright mean! It's almost like she's bipolar, the switch from saccharine sweet, to "witchy" can happen in a nanosecond.

So, while all last year she was speculating and predicting that she would "be done" by November, that timeframe has come and gone! Now she's saying that by NEXT November she wants to be done... Just wants to enjoy one more spring with her gardens, one more summer enjoying the local corn, and one more colorful autumn. Frankly, I'm watching the clock with a hungry, though heavy, heart...

As dad's condition really deteriorates, she will be even less patient, if I can imagine that. And when her own dementia gets more intense, who knows how that will affect everyone. Not well, I think.

We'll see... For now, that's off my chest, I guess I'll go have some tea and try to loosen some of the mucus from my cold! (And yes, even though I take honey regularly, I caught a cold. Imagine!!!! -- Must be the stress.)

All the best,
(Daughter)...


So, stay tuned for more on our developing saga!