So, about my dad...
This week, I went to visit my dad. I left the house at 5a Wed morning (EDT) to get to the Philly airport, took two flights (connecting through Denver) to Eugene, then drove 2:40 to get to his house, arriving shortly before 5p PDT. (Basically, 12 hours door to door.)
I'm glad I went, but ... oh boy. TL;DR He need to go to memory care, as soon as we can manage it.
So, people with dementia can get fixated on things. My friend's dad, who is still fairly high functioning, gets stuck worrying about certain things, even once the rest of the family has resolved the issue, and he will insist the issue still needs dealing with. My friend calls this his "sticky bits."
Well, my dad's sticky bit is ... burning paper in his woodstove. Anything made of paper or cardboard. He's kneeling in front of the woodstove in his living room, methodically ripping old books, phone books, cardboard, junk mail, etc, into strips, then burning them. (He used to have a cigarette lighter by his woodstove. Now he takes a twist of paper, goes to his electric stove, turns a burner on high, holds the paper to the burner until it catches fire, then turns the burner off and carries his little torch to the woodstove.) But while he's feeding the woodstove, it's obviously open, so he's sitting there, feeding it paper, while smoke goes *everywhere*. He has the whole coal-miner look down - his hands are now so covered in soot, it doesn't wash off. His once-white (well, off-white - it's old) labcoat, which he wears as a layer over his other stuff, is now dark gray. And there is a layer of black soot over EVERYTHING. Every cobweb is now black. The floors are dark gray. Every counter surface is dark gray. The inside of the microwave - which he has always left ajar so that it doesn't get musty - is black. I went out on Thurs morning and bought some scrub sponges and a bottle of 409 so I at least had a couple of surfaces where I felt it was safe to set something down, to make the sink clean, the toilet seat safe to sit on, etc. Scrubbed the microwave as best as I could. I washed everything I took out of the dish drainer before using it. I borrowed a broom (no idea where my dad's went) and shop vac from the next-door neighbors to get rid of (most of) the black cobwebs and make the floors slightly less bad (the hard floors really need proper scrubbing - the dirt's been ground in too long). You should have seen the soles of my shoes. (I didn't go ANYWHERE in the house without shoes.) I'd wash my hands and then touch a doorknob - which I had wiped off, btw - and my fingers would still end up gray. Opening cabinets - gray fingers. Touching anything? Gray fingers. I still have dirt under my nails. You can see how my dad ended up with permanently gray hands.
As I had been warned by the next door neighbors, his ability to/interest in/awareness of changing his clothes and doing other personal care is gone. He's wearing the same clothes day in and out - to sleep in, as well. He hasn't shaved.
I managed to get him an appointment with his doctor for an outside opinion as to whether he needed to be moved. My father is fiercely independent and his has always been strongly against the idea of nursing care. He's currently not hurting anyone (just himself, with the smoke and soot), he's not (yet) wandering away, and he can still - barely - prepare simple foods like soup, tuna, etc. But I really can't let him live in squalor like that.
My dad didn't want to change clothes or shower before the appointment - I don't know if he remembers how to; he didn't remember that he ALWAYS used to shower under the hose outside - when I took him to the doctor, so I took him as-is. At least he went - he initially tried to refuse but I told him "Too bad - you're going." On the other hand, it meant he made a fantastic "Exhibit A" for the doctor, who has known him for years, so he could see exactly what my father's current state and mode of operation is. The doctor firmly believes in letting people age in place and die at home whenever possible, which my dad and I both loved when we saw him 2 years ago, but even he had to admit that the time had probably come to put him in memory care.)
(It's ironic, because my dad has always been violently anti-smoking. I honestly think it's the one thing he might have disowned me for - if I'd smoked. And now he's breathing in smoke all day long.)
I came home last night/this morning at 1:40a and took a shower despite the late hour, and my hair still smells a bit smokey. I threw everything into the laundry this morning, even stuff I hadn't worn, to get the smoke smell out. I took my knitting on the trip - which I ended up not doing - and I can't wash that, so I have it hanging outside in hopes of airing it out.
My dad has two very nice wooden shelf/cabinet things that he's had all my life - which apparently he made (as I learned a couple of years ago) - shelves on top, cabinets with doors on the bottom. Anyway, they have always been full of books. Old books - some Dutch, some English, almost all probably from before I was born or when I was young. (I think the most recent was "A Brief History of Time" by Hawking.) The shelves around 3/4 empty now - he's been methodically taking a book, ripping it to pieces, and burning it. On the one hand, he doesn't need them anymore and most are so old I'm sure nobody would have wanted them. On the other hand, it shows how "stuck" he is.
A binder full of letters from his 90th birthday, which I had compiled from friends and family - it's missing. I'm assuming he burned it.
The tax documents I had planned to search for and collect? All ashes. He's burned all the mail he's accumulated since I've seen him. So now I have to figure out how to get the various missing pieces reissued. To my house.
But here's the kicker.
I took my power of attorney and medical power of attorney with me to the doctor's appointment in case I needed either one for any reason. We came home, I swear I set them down on my bed, but maybe I didn't. After lunch and a nap, I went drove back down the hill into town (no cell service at my dad's house) so I could talk to Will and my mom (and the phone company - that's another story). When I came back - they were missing. And I can only assume they've been burned. Gone. I did check the woodstove and didn't see it, but it doesn't mean it wasn't buried under the strips of phone book remnants.
Before you ask me to consult my lawyer for the copies, you have to know that I did this through an online thing. I was in OR 2 years ago, figured the time was coming that I would need this, and I needed it in the short window I had for my visit. I went to the public library, got the documents, printed them there, he and I filled them out, and - conveniently enough - the librarian was also a notary public, so she notarized it all for us. I'm pretty sure I gave a copy to his doctor's office right away. And there was an investment dude who wouldn't change the mailing address last year without the power of attorney so I photocopied it and sent it to him. I'm hoping they can at least send me copies back. It won't be notarized anymore, but ... it's something. I'm so distraught over this, you have no idea.
[I lost my Kindle, too. I had left it on the coffee table when I went to take a shower at the neighbor's house on Thurs evening (no hot water at my dad's, and did I mention the soot?). When I came back, it was gone. I'm sure he didn't burn it because a) it's not paper and b) there was no weird smell or strange lumpy object in the woodstove. But he probably saw this strange object, didn't know what it was, only knew it didn't belong there and put it ... somewhere. He does this a lot - and we've never found where he's putting stuff. The hat and scarf set I gave him 2 years ago? Haven't found it. Becca (the woman who does his grocery shopping) gave him a new (manual) can opener. No idea where it is. (He is LITERALLY opening cans with a meat cleaver-type thing from his garage. He's just going tap-tap-tap-tap around the rim with the corner of the blade. I mean, it *works* but....) Anyway - I went through the house, the garage, cabinets, drawers, closets - no idea. I've currently got my old Kindle charging. The battery sucks, but it'll have to do for now.]
Plus, there's the whole idea of going through his house, getting it ready to sell. Even as a handyman's special, it's going to need some work. Will pointed out that it essentially has smoke damage, as from a fire, because of how my dad has been living the past couple of months. Which means every wall and ceiling will need, at minimum, to be painted with Kilz, and every carpet replaced. The yard is a literal jungle, having not been dealt with for a couple of years (it was always a semi-jungle, but now it's an actual jungle of trees and wildflowers and bushes and...). It's up on a hill outside of a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Who is going to buy it??
And we have to get my dad out, first before we can touch anything because he is very territorial. Even now, in his diminished state, he stated clearly that he did NOT want outside help - I offered it after he said, for the nth time, that he could barely take care of himself and that his brain didn't function well anymore - because this was HIS territory. If we bring him back to NJ (and live in memory care nearby), that means flying back and forth at least twice. (It would be much MUCH easier to place him in OR, but then I still can't visit, and it means flying out AGAIN if something happens to him, and ... I really don't know what the best course of action is.)
Complication with flying him out here: both his driver's license and passport are expired. I could haul him out to the DMV to get a State ID card, but ... oy. Oh, hey, did I mention the missing Power of Attorney docs?
And I'm also putting Becca out of her side hustle - at a time when she's already unemployed (she lost her job last month due to Covid recession). I mean, not immediately, and I think I might set her up with a "pension" of some sort because she's been SO awesome, and that deserves to be rewarded. But still. I have no idea how much memory care costs, and that's going to eat into my dad's savings, too.
I'm so overwhelmed. Will isn't coping well either - and it's not even his dad. He had to take his Xanax last night before he could sleep. We were both up and talking in the dark until 3a because we were too wound up despite our exhaustion.
My dad clearly appreciated having me there, even though we didn't talk much. (What is there to say? He's not going to remember any conversation longer than 15 seconds. Literally. His memory used to last about 1-2 minutes. Not anymore.) And he was clearly sad when it was time for me to go. But I also know that as soon as he walked back into the house, he forgot I had ever been there. That's always kind of hard to live with.
At least he's vaccinated. When I took him to the doctor, they mentioned the hospital (tiny hospital next door) was doing a clinic, so off we went. We were actually offered both Moderna and J&J. I was all set to take whatever they had, and if he didn't get his 2nd shot at the right time, then oh well. But when they offered me the choice, I jumped at the chance to get him one-and-done J&J. No noticeable side effects yesterday morning. And, of course, he had no idea he'd been vaccinated, when I reached under his shirt collar to pull the bandaid off his shoulder. (Otherwise, it would have stayed there forever, irritating his skin.)
I had planned to stay until Sat (today), but on Thurs, I rearranged my trip to come home a day early, yesterday, meaning I was in town less than 48 hours. But aside from temporarily cleaning off surfaces and having him evaluated (and vaccinated), there wasn't really anything else I COULD do in the immediate timeframe. I came home to regroup, and have regular internet access that wasn't on my phone while huddled in my car on the side of the road. I'm exhausted and overwhelmed and stressed out of my mind. If anyone has any experience with dealing with any of this, and has advice, please please let me know.
(As for flying: I was definitely ready to put people back at a 6' distance after being stuck on planes all day. One of my flights on the way home had an empty middle seat - the lady on the aisle and I rejoiced at the bonus space between us. I saw a lot of useless neck gaiters, and some masks worn under noses, but at least most people tried to spread out at the gate, especially if they were eating. And United handed out alcohol wipes for your personal seat/area as soon as you got on board, which was a nice touch.)
I'm glad I went, but ... oh boy. TL;DR He need to go to memory care, as soon as we can manage it.
So, people with dementia can get fixated on things. My friend's dad, who is still fairly high functioning, gets stuck worrying about certain things, even once the rest of the family has resolved the issue, and he will insist the issue still needs dealing with. My friend calls this his "sticky bits."
Well, my dad's sticky bit is ... burning paper in his woodstove. Anything made of paper or cardboard. He's kneeling in front of the woodstove in his living room, methodically ripping old books, phone books, cardboard, junk mail, etc, into strips, then burning them. (He used to have a cigarette lighter by his woodstove. Now he takes a twist of paper, goes to his electric stove, turns a burner on high, holds the paper to the burner until it catches fire, then turns the burner off and carries his little torch to the woodstove.) But while he's feeding the woodstove, it's obviously open, so he's sitting there, feeding it paper, while smoke goes *everywhere*. He has the whole coal-miner look down - his hands are now so covered in soot, it doesn't wash off. His once-white (well, off-white - it's old) labcoat, which he wears as a layer over his other stuff, is now dark gray. And there is a layer of black soot over EVERYTHING. Every cobweb is now black. The floors are dark gray. Every counter surface is dark gray. The inside of the microwave - which he has always left ajar so that it doesn't get musty - is black. I went out on Thurs morning and bought some scrub sponges and a bottle of 409 so I at least had a couple of surfaces where I felt it was safe to set something down, to make the sink clean, the toilet seat safe to sit on, etc. Scrubbed the microwave as best as I could. I washed everything I took out of the dish drainer before using it. I borrowed a broom (no idea where my dad's went) and shop vac from the next-door neighbors to get rid of (most of) the black cobwebs and make the floors slightly less bad (the hard floors really need proper scrubbing - the dirt's been ground in too long). You should have seen the soles of my shoes. (I didn't go ANYWHERE in the house without shoes.) I'd wash my hands and then touch a doorknob - which I had wiped off, btw - and my fingers would still end up gray. Opening cabinets - gray fingers. Touching anything? Gray fingers. I still have dirt under my nails. You can see how my dad ended up with permanently gray hands.
As I had been warned by the next door neighbors, his ability to/interest in/awareness of changing his clothes and doing other personal care is gone. He's wearing the same clothes day in and out - to sleep in, as well. He hasn't shaved.
I managed to get him an appointment with his doctor for an outside opinion as to whether he needed to be moved. My father is fiercely independent and his has always been strongly against the idea of nursing care. He's currently not hurting anyone (just himself, with the smoke and soot), he's not (yet) wandering away, and he can still - barely - prepare simple foods like soup, tuna, etc. But I really can't let him live in squalor like that.
My dad didn't want to change clothes or shower before the appointment - I don't know if he remembers how to; he didn't remember that he ALWAYS used to shower under the hose outside - when I took him to the doctor, so I took him as-is. At least he went - he initially tried to refuse but I told him "Too bad - you're going." On the other hand, it meant he made a fantastic "Exhibit A" for the doctor, who has known him for years, so he could see exactly what my father's current state and mode of operation is. The doctor firmly believes in letting people age in place and die at home whenever possible, which my dad and I both loved when we saw him 2 years ago, but even he had to admit that the time had probably come to put him in memory care.)
(It's ironic, because my dad has always been violently anti-smoking. I honestly think it's the one thing he might have disowned me for - if I'd smoked. And now he's breathing in smoke all day long.)
I came home last night/this morning at 1:40a and took a shower despite the late hour, and my hair still smells a bit smokey. I threw everything into the laundry this morning, even stuff I hadn't worn, to get the smoke smell out. I took my knitting on the trip - which I ended up not doing - and I can't wash that, so I have it hanging outside in hopes of airing it out.
My dad has two very nice wooden shelf/cabinet things that he's had all my life - which apparently he made (as I learned a couple of years ago) - shelves on top, cabinets with doors on the bottom. Anyway, they have always been full of books. Old books - some Dutch, some English, almost all probably from before I was born or when I was young. (I think the most recent was "A Brief History of Time" by Hawking.) The shelves around 3/4 empty now - he's been methodically taking a book, ripping it to pieces, and burning it. On the one hand, he doesn't need them anymore and most are so old I'm sure nobody would have wanted them. On the other hand, it shows how "stuck" he is.
A binder full of letters from his 90th birthday, which I had compiled from friends and family - it's missing. I'm assuming he burned it.
The tax documents I had planned to search for and collect? All ashes. He's burned all the mail he's accumulated since I've seen him. So now I have to figure out how to get the various missing pieces reissued. To my house.
But here's the kicker.
I took my power of attorney and medical power of attorney with me to the doctor's appointment in case I needed either one for any reason. We came home, I swear I set them down on my bed, but maybe I didn't. After lunch and a nap, I went drove back down the hill into town (no cell service at my dad's house) so I could talk to Will and my mom (and the phone company - that's another story). When I came back - they were missing. And I can only assume they've been burned. Gone. I did check the woodstove and didn't see it, but it doesn't mean it wasn't buried under the strips of phone book remnants.
Before you ask me to consult my lawyer for the copies, you have to know that I did this through an online thing. I was in OR 2 years ago, figured the time was coming that I would need this, and I needed it in the short window I had for my visit. I went to the public library, got the documents, printed them there, he and I filled them out, and - conveniently enough - the librarian was also a notary public, so she notarized it all for us. I'm pretty sure I gave a copy to his doctor's office right away. And there was an investment dude who wouldn't change the mailing address last year without the power of attorney so I photocopied it and sent it to him. I'm hoping they can at least send me copies back. It won't be notarized anymore, but ... it's something. I'm so distraught over this, you have no idea.
[I lost my Kindle, too. I had left it on the coffee table when I went to take a shower at the neighbor's house on Thurs evening (no hot water at my dad's, and did I mention the soot?). When I came back, it was gone. I'm sure he didn't burn it because a) it's not paper and b) there was no weird smell or strange lumpy object in the woodstove. But he probably saw this strange object, didn't know what it was, only knew it didn't belong there and put it ... somewhere. He does this a lot - and we've never found where he's putting stuff. The hat and scarf set I gave him 2 years ago? Haven't found it. Becca (the woman who does his grocery shopping) gave him a new (manual) can opener. No idea where it is. (He is LITERALLY opening cans with a meat cleaver-type thing from his garage. He's just going tap-tap-tap-tap around the rim with the corner of the blade. I mean, it *works* but....) Anyway - I went through the house, the garage, cabinets, drawers, closets - no idea. I've currently got my old Kindle charging. The battery sucks, but it'll have to do for now.]
Plus, there's the whole idea of going through his house, getting it ready to sell. Even as a handyman's special, it's going to need some work. Will pointed out that it essentially has smoke damage, as from a fire, because of how my dad has been living the past couple of months. Which means every wall and ceiling will need, at minimum, to be painted with Kilz, and every carpet replaced. The yard is a literal jungle, having not been dealt with for a couple of years (it was always a semi-jungle, but now it's an actual jungle of trees and wildflowers and bushes and...). It's up on a hill outside of a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Who is going to buy it??
And we have to get my dad out, first before we can touch anything because he is very territorial. Even now, in his diminished state, he stated clearly that he did NOT want outside help - I offered it after he said, for the nth time, that he could barely take care of himself and that his brain didn't function well anymore - because this was HIS territory. If we bring him back to NJ (and live in memory care nearby), that means flying back and forth at least twice. (It would be much MUCH easier to place him in OR, but then I still can't visit, and it means flying out AGAIN if something happens to him, and ... I really don't know what the best course of action is.)
Complication with flying him out here: both his driver's license and passport are expired. I could haul him out to the DMV to get a State ID card, but ... oy. Oh, hey, did I mention the missing Power of Attorney docs?
And I'm also putting Becca out of her side hustle - at a time when she's already unemployed (she lost her job last month due to Covid recession). I mean, not immediately, and I think I might set her up with a "pension" of some sort because she's been SO awesome, and that deserves to be rewarded. But still. I have no idea how much memory care costs, and that's going to eat into my dad's savings, too.
I'm so overwhelmed. Will isn't coping well either - and it's not even his dad. He had to take his Xanax last night before he could sleep. We were both up and talking in the dark until 3a because we were too wound up despite our exhaustion.
My dad clearly appreciated having me there, even though we didn't talk much. (What is there to say? He's not going to remember any conversation longer than 15 seconds. Literally. His memory used to last about 1-2 minutes. Not anymore.) And he was clearly sad when it was time for me to go. But I also know that as soon as he walked back into the house, he forgot I had ever been there. That's always kind of hard to live with.
At least he's vaccinated. When I took him to the doctor, they mentioned the hospital (tiny hospital next door) was doing a clinic, so off we went. We were actually offered both Moderna and J&J. I was all set to take whatever they had, and if he didn't get his 2nd shot at the right time, then oh well. But when they offered me the choice, I jumped at the chance to get him one-and-done J&J. No noticeable side effects yesterday morning. And, of course, he had no idea he'd been vaccinated, when I reached under his shirt collar to pull the bandaid off his shoulder. (Otherwise, it would have stayed there forever, irritating his skin.)
I had planned to stay until Sat (today), but on Thurs, I rearranged my trip to come home a day early, yesterday, meaning I was in town less than 48 hours. But aside from temporarily cleaning off surfaces and having him evaluated (and vaccinated), there wasn't really anything else I COULD do in the immediate timeframe. I came home to regroup, and have regular internet access that wasn't on my phone while huddled in my car on the side of the road. I'm exhausted and overwhelmed and stressed out of my mind. If anyone has any experience with dealing with any of this, and has advice, please please let me know.
(As for flying: I was definitely ready to put people back at a 6' distance after being stuck on planes all day. One of my flights on the way home had an empty middle seat - the lady on the aisle and I rejoiced at the bonus space between us. I saw a lot of useless neck gaiters, and some masks worn under noses, but at least most people tried to spread out at the gate, especially if they were eating. And United handed out alcohol wipes for your personal seat/area as soon as you got on board, which was a nice touch.)