Who's On First?

Don't Trust The Man With The Sled!

This is a post I've been working on for about a week.  Frankly, I don't know's on third!  That's about how it is this week.  Do you go chronologically or by subject matter?  It has been interesting, that's for sure.  Late Wednesday night, my mother finally broke down and began crying. We've been waiting for that. 

Ten days ago my father lost his wallet.  I went down that Wednesday afternoon to help my mother look for it, and deliver medication.  We looked in every single drawer in the house.  I specifically looked in the hutch drawer where her cocktail stirrers and gadgets are kept - twice.  My mother and Maggie have checked that drawer, repeatedly.  My mother has looked in it every day.  On Monday morning she found the wallet in it.

This morning she called.  He'd lost his wallet - again!  At least it is in the house, and I have copies of everything that is in it. My friend, Sharon, thinks he has a stash location.  He probably does.  I wouldn't be surprised to find my mothers' missing diamond there, also!

We're dealing with blood pressure that is going up and down.  It could be the meds.  He has an appointment in a few days.

His bridge broke.  Got that fixed.

His new hearing aides aren't working!

It's just one thing after another.  It's obvious we're into the early part of Stage 4.  The poor thing is now searching, constantly, for his brother.  He calls my cell, thinking that it belongs to my cousin, Sarah. I don't know what to tell him, so I try to let it go, changing the subject.  On the way back from Las Cruces on Friday, he kept trying to locate his brother.  He kept wondering where Nana and Grandy were.  Should we have left his mother in the hospital, alone.

He did great at lunch, but he ate eggplant parm, so that we didn't have the problems we do with complex carbs.  We tanked him up on a frap at Starbucks.  He did great okay, coming home, except for trying to call his brother.

He's also traveling.

We've taking him off several of his medications.  The problem we're discovering is that quite often medications don't work right with Alzheimer's.  Most doctors don't realize this, nor do pharmacists.  So, now, we need to check everything.



All rights reserved, SJ Reidhead

That's Life

Nana & Grandy at Goldie & Jimmy's in Middletown

We have faced the fact that we're dealing with the onset of Stage IV Alzheimer's Disease.  We do have one problem and that's trying to figure out how much comprehension that is missing is due to the disease or the fact that the third set of hearing aids may not be working as good as the first ones, or the second ones.  This time we had to cough up about $250 a  year for insurance on the blasted things.

Right, now, the best way to describe the situation is like dealing with Grandy's dementia.  The short term memory is not firing on all thrusters.  Fortunately, he's stopped asking about his brother and parents. I don't know how long that is going to ask.  What he does ask, on a daily basis:

1.  Are all the taxes paid?
2.  Is there enough money in the bank?
3.  Did you go to the post office today?
4.  Was there any mail?
5.  Is there oil and anti-freeze in everything?
6.  Are we staying here tonight?
7.  I need to get  your mother something for Christmas.
8.  What about the taxes?

Today, when my mother said he wanted to talk, I told her to tell him, the taxes were paid, there was money in the bank, I hadn't gone to the post office, and John Vega had taken care of his old trucks.  He laughed.  I told her to ask if his refrigerator was running.  He thought that was funny when she told him to go catch it, that obviously I had no 'respect' for his questions.  It was all in good fun.

Funny thing, he can go to the store, and completely calculate price per ounce of something, telling MD what is the best buy on something.  He's still reading his cowboy books.  I told her about a Bible passage I wanted her to read.  She asked him to get the Bible for her.  "Which version?"  That was a question he would always ask.  He read the chapter to her twice, discussing it.

He is getting frail and tired.  He forgets where things go. She keeps telling him what to do.  Yesterday, when they discovered they had a busted pipe down by the well, he had a fit, wanting to go fix it.  She finally had to get quite specific, telling him no.  Then, he got over it.  The neighbor came over and visited with him.  That helped.



All rights reserved, SJ Reidhead