One Never Knows

In the last 24 hours, my dad has shown me a side I would never have believed him capable of. All the insistence about getting Hospice to start helping them out has met with a brick wall, partly because of serious, albeit illogical, objections on my step mom's part. My father has shown that his love for her exceeds the need for anyone else to be there, no matter the possible physical detriment to himself. He hasn't been eating right as far as I am concerned, nor getting the relaxation time or exercise he has always been used to. It is his choice.

Dad has always been able to put the fear of god into just about anyone with little more than a glance, and while he has mellowed a LOT in the last 20 years, he can still be a real prick. I admire Mary no end for not only putting up with him, but for calling him down when he was completely out of line. He did some serious emotional harm to all of my sibs and me, without even being aware of the damage I think. He is respected by a lot of people, but not always liked. I have a lot of him in me, and can say similar things of myself I suppose. I, after all,learned to deal socially with the world thru him.

Anyway, he has chosen to say no to the hospice thing for the time being, and my step sister has decided to back down. I will follow suit. No one can tell my dad what to do anyhow, and I suspect he knows best what it will take to give Mary a calm and peaceful last few months. She has her good days, and her bad days. There are days of complete calm, and then days where the temper flares for no discernible reason. I have compared it to dealing with a five year old, but it may be even younger than that. I got a small taste the other day, reacted as I would with a child, and it all calmed down pretty quickly. Short event, but long lasting lesson.

Mary doesn't DO much anymore. A few things get her attention: jigsaw puzzles, music and dominoes. The doctor told Sandy that Mary is living in a world of patterns, which is why those things appeal. I witnessed Mary keeping nearly flawless time to the instrumental music she turned on "for me." She tapped her feet, patted on her knee, even hummed along, and it seemed to bring her clarity of mind for awhile. i was amazed.

The jigsaw puzzles are an interesting thing too. Most of us would use colour or pattern on the picture, say, flowers, or sky, or what have you, to work on the puzzle. Mary almost exclusively uses the shape of the pieces themselves! I "helped" with one awhile back, noting that she got flustered if I was doing better than she was, and instead talked with her while she searched for the piece shapes. The speed with which she finished that 100 puzzle was amazing, considering she has trouble remembering much from the day before. Patterns mean more to her world that things.

Now the dominoes.....Sandy calls it insane dominoes when she plays with Mary. I agree. I only know that one is supposed to put like numbers butt to butt. There is a version that uses this starting point, usually the double nines. Everything starts off normally, but Mary's idea of rules is wild. She's all over the place about some things, and OCD(obsessive-complusive disorder) about others. It is really hard to judge sometimes. The one big catch is the other player MUST abide by the rules, even if Mary doesn't. Sound familiar? It's that small child thing.

There are six beginning slots on this centre piece she uses, but goddess forbid any but the three she wants used should be attempted by anyone: Tantrum. If she finds she is losing, and she is very aware of how many tiles each player has, tantrum. If anyone but her tried to play a tile out of sequence (i.e., not matching numbers) even if she just did that herself, tantrum. And sadly, jokes are not part of her mentality anymore. I was at a hopeless impasse in one game, unable to get rid of even one tile, but having many that could have interlocked. I jokingly said I would just play over here by myself, and all hell broke loose. Things started being pushed and thrown, so I just sat back and looked at her. When she tried to start a different game, I did what I would with a child in that situation. I said no thanks, I think I'm done, I will go over there, and left the table. No nasty words, no trying to reason. I just left. I went back in the living room, sat down, and continued work on something I had been doing before. To my surprise, she turned all the tiles face down, gathered all of it up, and came out to sit with me. The whole ordeal was over. I was flummoxed. Had it been a completely rational person, I'd have reacted totally different, but with her, I had to drop it, and act like it had never happened.

That is the nature of vascular dementia, and Alzheimer's. Other than her general frustration over not being in control of her life, I have no explainations for the tantrums. Her more frequent naps now may help this, but I feel sorry for dad. He is putting up with the abuse because he remembers, even if she doesn't. That, my friends,is true love. All the rest is just selfish bullshit. Tom Stoppard, american playwrite, said something once that takes it home: "It is easy to love someone when they are at their best. True love is loving someone when they are at their worst."

Horrible abuse of the English language, Mr. Stoppard, but very very insightful.
I just have to wonder if my dad understands how much I have grown to love him, watching him go thru this hell, all for love.