Being Ernest

I bought dad a car magazine before our visit today.
He happily accepted my gift and started to thumb through its pages.
The first four pages to be exact.
While he was awake, he browsed through those four pagers, over and over again.
While he napped, I colored Easter Eggs with some of the staff and residents.

As we were finishing up the eggs, I was talking to one of the caregivers who shared this with me…
On Sunday, Dad was taken from his room to Church services in the lobby.
He sang the Hymns, in his own way, using his own words.
He partook of the Sacrament.

I think that his soul rejoiced in these familiar surroundings.
My hope, is that our souls do the same.

Being Ernest

Dad was in a good mood today.
He would hold eye contact for a moment.
He would randomly chuckle at nothing.
My visit with him was just what I needed.

I had a very difficult week.
The love and support of my husband and daughters
gave me everything I needed to start getting through it.
My mom encouraged me and loved me the way only a mom can.
I sat with my dad today, needing him too.

I was overwhelmed with the notion to talk to him,
to tell him what has happened, knowing it wouldn’t matter.
I teared up a bit and dismissed the thought.
But, it came back.
I looked at my dad and told him that I had a bad week.
He looked away at something that wasn’t there.
I told him that if he looked at me, I would tell him what happened.
In almost an instant, he looked my way.
I proceeded to tell him about my week.
When I was done, he chuckled.
I needed that too.
It was as if he was telling me that everything will be OK.
and I believe it will.

Thanks for being there for me, dad.

B is for Brownies, or BAD DOG!

Tonight was my night to cook for the family. My mother, brother and his crew included.
I planned and prepared the perfect meal, including dessert:
Chocolate brownies infused with Blood Orange Olive Oil.
The house smelled of scrumptious oranges all. day. long.
The meal was timed perfectly.
All the guests arrived and we were enjoying a hot meal within minutes.
Good company. Great conversation. Dessert anticipation.

Suddenly, an unusual noise caught my attention.
I caught a glimpse of something under the pantry door.
Then, I realized, the dog was not at his usual spot
underneath the table in search of a dropped morsel.
I jumped up, opened the pantry door, and found him…
face down in the plate of fresh brownies.

Being Ernest

Dad was a very dedicated journal keeper. He faithfully recorded thoughts and events. He even dedicated time to transposing his journal onto a computer. Naturally,  his diligence declined as his disease progressed.

My dad gave me much. Keeping this record is my way of giving him something back. It is also an opportunity to raise Alzheimers awareness,  in a very small way.

Today, dad was sleeping in the TV room. I just let him sleep as I sat and helped another resident with her word search. I tickled his foot to wake him up long enough to take his chocolate pudding disguised meds. He kept his eyes shut, but opened his mouth after each bite, just like an anxious baby bird being fed by its mother.  He promptly returned to his nap.

There was a brief moment when he opened his eyes and I jump up to his side. He happily said HELLO LADY to me and stroked my hair was we spoke a few words... and in an instant,  he was back to napping.

Being Ernest

I had one goal today for my visit with dad... trimming his fingernails.

I set out with toenail clippers in hand (that's right!), and my youngest daughter.

When I arrived, he was not in his usual spot in the dining room. Today, he was in a recliner in the TV room, fast asleep. I nudged him awake and said my hello's. I gently held his right hand and promptly snipped away. Some nails already shortened by his own incessant picking, others quite long and thick. (Hence, the toenail clippers.)

Getting to the left hand was not as easy. I literally had a battle on my hands. He was pulling away, grabbing my wrists, hiding his fingers. Doing all that he could to prevent me from completing my task. I learned today, that patience is key. I sat and held his hand and waited.
And waited.
And waited. 

I talked to him as I continued to make my way to a finger. I would single one out, pose it and wait. More than once, I had to start this process over. I eventually won the battle and left dad trimmed and both of us, quite content.