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October 14, 2003 - 4:12 p.m. Today is one of those grey fall days, we must be experiencing some sort of mild Indian Summer because the greyness isn�t accompanied by any crisp, clean note of fall, so everything just feels depressing and oppressive. It�s appropriate really; right now the weather seems to be mirroring my mood. I had dinner with my parents last night and seeing them is getting more and more difficult for me. I can�t even describe how much that pisses me off. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful relationship with my parents, to enjoy their company as people in addition to being my folks, but now seeing my dad slowly disappearing and seeing the frustration and pain in my mom�s eyes, it is becoming nearly unbearable to be with them at times. I alternate between feeling furious and sick when I hear my father struggle to say the blessing before dinner, the blessing that he has said before just about every meal of my life and now he can�t remember or even say the words most of the time. I know I�ve addressed this before and recently, but sometimes it just overwhelms me. What we�re dealing with can�t be cured or even effectively slowed, at least in my father�s case, and we just have to sit and watch as he deteriorates before our eyes. I feel like there is something that I should do, find some �miracle cure� or a revolutionary new procedure, but we�ve done that. It didn�t help at all. He just keeps getting worse and worse by the day. One of the most horrible things about this disease is that it not only steals the memories of the victim, but it slowly erases the memories of the �before� from the people around them. It�s getting harder and harder to remember how my dad was before all this started. I�m having difficulty remembering the man who was given awards and accolades for being one of the city�s top lawyers. I try to recall conversations we had, what he said when he was advising me on my choice of colleges, how he was when he taught me to ride my bike, how strong he was when he would carry into the house when I was little because I was too tired to make it upstairs. I mean the memories are there, but they are fading and slowly being replaced with new memories. Watching him struggle to put on his glasses, seeing him stare blankly at me when we�re trying to have a conversation, hearing him mumble sounds that aren�t words trying to say something, the look of panic in his eyes when he loses concentration and whatever he was trying to do completely eludes him. Last week my parents were spending some time at our mountain house and I called up there to say hello and check in. When I called they must have been out or unable to answer the phone so the answering machine picked up. It�s my father�s voice on the machine, the message must have been made at least 5 years ago and here was this voice, strong, confident with that lilt of a southern accent that he has. It felt like I was kicked in the stomach and I was unable to leave a message because it�s been so long since I�ve heard that voice I almost didn�t recognize it as my father�s. Sometimes all I want is for someone to hold me in their arms and tell me it�s all going to be ok, the way he did when some small thing happened that upset the little girl me. It�s not all going to be ok. Alzheimer�s came into my family like a thief and stole my father; last night it really hit me that I�m never getting him back, not the way he was. Of course he�s still my father and I can still recognize him in some small gesture or look, but those are becoming increasingly fleeting and will one day vanish altogether. I remember about a year ago when my mom said something to the effect of �He�s here, but it�s not your father.� I remember being outraged that she would say such a thing. �Of course it�s still dad, how can you say that??� In a way she was right, I never wanted to be able to agree with that statement, it seemed so cold and heartless, but it�s not really. My dad with Alzheimer�s is not the man that I grew up knowing as my parent, protector and hero. Our roles have been reversed, I am now the parent and protector of him, but he is still my hero, that won�t change. � Wondering:As childish as it may sound: Why?
Doing:Trying to work, not really working.
Wishing:So many things.
Travel back in time True Art - June 21, 2004
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