Back up, Try Again

Well, the assisted living arrangement didn't work out. The building Dad moved into was really nice, as were the people working and living there, but Dad was really lonely. All us kids had thought it would be great because there were lots of activities there and he'd make new friends. We should have looked at the past to predict the future. Dad was never an outgoing, social guy, and he definitely didn't embrace the social activities.

Granted, most were geared toward "women's" types of things....shopping at Wal-Mart, hand-bell choir, swimming aerobics, kitchen band, etc. No self-respecting man would have joined the groups. They did have parties for special days like Memorial Day and the 4th of July, but even when his neighbors encouraged him to go, he declined (sometimes, rather rudely, I admit). He often commented that everyone had white hair (we told him to look in the mirror!) and he was the only one without a walker or a wheelchair. This was true. He did move from his assigned seat in the dining room and sat by himself because he didn't like his table companions. Apparently, "The Captain" (an ex-naval captain) was a bit bossy.

The Driving Issue

So...the obsessive-compulsive that Dad is, he sat in his two-room apartment and went over his checkbook, his 4 rolodex files of cards with names and numbers (I think he had about 7 or 8 for Steve and me) and talked incessantly about needing a car. The paper was delivered to his door daily, and all he looked at was the car ads. Of course, we all had decided it wouldn't be a good idea and tried to steer the conversation away from car talk. Understandably, Dad felt imprisoned and commented that he "didn't know how he got into this position". Sad.
Things got a little hairy when we called one morning and he informed us that he had ordered a car. Alarm bells were blaring! Apparently, he had called a dealership in Orlando and arranged for a car to be delivered. He went to the bank in his building (not a good thing, having a branch of his bank within walking distance) and arranged for a cashier's check to pay for the car. Crazy! Steve, my husband, is really good at talking to people and counseling them, so he went over and they decided to cancel the order. They agreed that it wasn't a good idea for him to drive.

To save room, I'll just list the things that happened related to driving:

- Dad would go down to the parking lot and try all his keys in the cars. The nurse would call me and I'd have to intervene. He couldn't even remember what it looked like.

- He has a valid drivers' license and he'd copy it off and hang it on the wall, and even sent it to me.

- We decided to have him evaluated and have the doctor render an opinion on whether or not he should drive. The psychiatrist was very good at talking with him and said Dad had significant short-term memory loss, but wouldn't say whether or not he should drive. He suggested we take him to the DMV for a driving test, and sent him home with some vitamin stuff. Worthless.

- The DMV wouldn't give him a driving test unless his license was expiring. They suggested we get his primary physician to send a form in to the state saying that he was unfit to drive and needed a test. However, some dementia patients can pass the tests because they don't deal with figuring out where they're going.

Arrrgh! Now it's apparent why there are so many unfit elderly people driving!

We decided to take another approach. We took Dad's car over to his place, got Dad maps, and told him to direct Steve on how to get to the doctor's office (very easy). He turned the wrong way down the hall outside his apartment and couldn't even find his way to the elevator. I guess he'd always just followed me out. It was very sad. He had us driving up and down the same road outside his complex for at least 30 minutes, and got out to ask directions, but then forgot what he was doing before he got to the door of the store. It was apparent that he shouldn't be driving. Physically, he could drive, but he wasn't and isn't capable of figuring out where he's going.

That settled it for a couple of weeks, then the whole issue started again. He stated that a man without a car wouldn't get any respect, and I suppose he's kind of right about that.

Finally, A Change of Location

Eventually, Dad got really lonely and sort of despondent about his living arrangement. We could all sympathize. He's not the type to live on the second floor of a building with no yard or people he wants to talk to. We started looking for a house to rent near Steve and me. We decided on a house that Steve's mom owns that is in a good neighborhood, has a nice back yard and lots of trees, and is roomy enough for 2 unrelated people to live in without getting in each others' way. Carol had talked to a woman at a company that provides caregivers for a really reasonable fee (well, as reasonable as they get). The woman she brought out was perfect...middle-aged, married, a CNA, and very nice. It turned out her relief caregiver was just as great. God took care of us on that one!

It's been 4 days, and things are going well. Dad likes his place and the caregivers. The only problems are that he's trying to get out of the house (especially at night), doesn't sleep, and he wants to get in bed with the caregiver. He had tried "Putting the moves" on several of us (another topic), which was and is very uncomfortable. It's apparently normal for Alzheimer's patients to lose their inhibitions and, for those whom have lost their spouse, to think daughters are the wives. Ick. Carol and I don't like to visit because we're so uncomfortable, so we try to get our husbands to go as shields.

We had keyed deadbolts installed and gave the keys to the caregivers.

The doctor give Dad a prescription for a medication that would help him sleep. Naturally, Dad won't take any of the medicine that other doctors prescribe for him, so we had to get him to promise to take it. The nurse had to crush it up (only 1/2 tablet) and put it in his food. It didn't make a bit of difference. Try cutting the coffee with decaf. Still no change. We'll have to increase the dose. He's so tired, though he says he isn't.

About the bed thing, well....of course they lock their doors, but he doesn't realize it's not appropriate. Dad wants a wife and misses sex and physical touch. I fear that he's thinking I'm mom or a replacement...he's very clingy. Poor guy, he even cried when I went to see him yesterday because he was glad to see me. It's alot of change for him.

I'm not sure what to do about finding him friends or a girlfriend (no wives allowed!). He thought the idea of going to Sunday school was a good idea, so we'll try it.

I'm thinking we'll have to talk to him about the diagnosis of Alzheimers. It's such a depressing, scary word. We have talked to him about having a memory problem, but he dismisses it. He knows, though. I'll have to figure out if and how we should approach it.

Steve and I both are noticing things are getting worse quickly. He didn't really start to wander until he got into this house. He may have at the assisted living, but he was contained and protected. He's like a child.

There's alot more to add, but next time....