Margee2's Xanga

Friday, February 18, 2005

Fri, 18 Feb 2005 21:04:42 GMT

This blog has moved. See Life With Dad

There will be no further postings here.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Wed, 16 Feb 2005 23:39:39 GMT

Conversation with Dad

<background information> I wouldn't say Dad is lazy, but when he was a young man, his mother had to tell him to "put that book down and get a job." She had to threaten to throw him out of the house if he didn't do something besides sit around and read. He's been like that ever sense. Ok, I would say he is lazy.

Today:

"I'm barely alive, that is what I am."

My response--You don't have to be. Get out of your chair and DO something, and you'll be more alive.

I guess the child really does become the parent.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Tue, 15 Feb 2005 00:09:21 GMT

Plateaus and Valleys

Dad seems to plateau--stay the same--for a long time, then he takes a sudden downhill turn. He is in a downhill phase right now.

For a while now, Dad has occasionally started to undress in the family room when he thought we were taking too long to put him to bed. Tonight for the first time Dad undressed BEFORE dinner. He took off his suspenders and pants, unbuttoned his shirt, and removed it. He left his clothes in a pile in Mama's chair. Then he came to the table wearing only his undershirt, diaper, and leg wraps with his plastic pants around his knees. I guess it was a good thing he shuffles because he couldn't have walked without tripping on his plastic pants.

I re-dressed him and let him come back to the table. I had already put the salads on the table, so he started eating on his before dinner was ready. Now for as long as I can remember, Dad has liked bacon bits (imitation) on his salad. Tonight, he decided that they were too hard to chew and spit them out. He left them in a nasty pile on the table next to his salad bowl.

Dad likes to wash his food down with milk or tea. Because of his fluid retention problems and his chronic congestive heart failure, we have to limit the amount he drinks. Tonight, before he even started eating his food, he picked up his milk glass and drained most of it before I could stop him. Then, since he didn't have much milk, he had a harder time eating his dinner.

He used his fingers to eat almost everything tonight, including salad and English peas. The only piece of silverware he consistantly used tonight was his spoon for his pudding. I guess as long as it is just family, it doesn't really matter. At least he is faster eating with his fingers instead of trying to use a fork and carrying an empty fork to his mouth.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Sun, 06 Feb 2005 22:28:15 GMT

Words of Wisdom

Bits from Dad over the past week:

"I like my tongue. That is what I do." "I use my tongue to talk. That is what I do." "If I didn't have my tongue, I couldn't talk. That is what I could not do."

"I am not Chinese. That is what I am not." "I am an American. That is what I am."

"I have an overabundace of facial hair. That is what I have."

"I am a cranky old man. That is what I am." "If I grew a beard, I could be a cranky grandfather. That is what I could be."

"I will live a long time. That is what I will do." "My parents lived to be over 100 years old. That is what they did." "I will live to be over 100 years old. That is what I will do."

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Sat, 05 Feb 2005 15:08:09 GMT

Pressure Sores

Since Dad is very sedentary, he is prone to pressure sores. For years, the sores have been on his backside because not only did he sit in a chair all day (refusing any kind of exercise or activity), he sat all night sleeping in his chair. We have been able to keep them under control by using hosptial-grade diapers that keep him drier and special skin cream for early-stage pressure sores.

Very shortly after we started making Dad sleep in the bed, a pressure sore began developing on his heel. We used the cream that works for his sores on his backside and put a pillow under his calves to lift his heels off the bed. Although Dad doesn't move any more than he has to, he was able to get the pillow out from under his legs. His heels were down on the bed, and he developed a serious pressure sore. We took him to his regular doctor who referrerd him to a wound specialist.

The wound specialist prescribed several things, including compression bandages for both legs. We had been putting surgical socks on Dad, but that wasn't enough. Since my mother-in-law has for years put a pillow next to her feet to keep the pressure of the covers off her feet, we wanted to try that too to see if that would help also. My husband built a cage to lift the blankets just off his feet.

All was going pretty well, just taking more time to get him up in the morning and in bed at night, until yesterday morning. When my husband came downstairs at 5:30 a.m. (our usual time), a wave of poop smell hit him. In the night, Dad had thrown off all the covers, undressed himself from the waist down, and ripped off the compression bandages. Poop was everywhere. It took my husband over an hour to get him cleaned up.

Obviously Dad can move around a lot more than he usually does when he really wants to...

Monday, January 31, 2005

Mon, 31 Jan 2005 12:58:02 GMT

You Can't Win for Losing

Since we started locking Dad's bedroom door after dinner, he has been fussing, but at least he hasn't been going into his room, stripping, and spreading poop everywhere. However, Saturday night while we were out walking the dog, Dad sat in the family room and stripped down to his undershirt, diaper, and socks--all by 6:45.

So, last night we had a church business meeting that started at 7:30. Rather than make Dad sit whining until 9:00, my husband got Dad ready for bed at 7:00--about the time he had been fussing and undressing. When Dad was all ready for bed, he whined plantively, "Do I have to go to bed now?"

We let him sit up in his pajamas in the family room watching TV and went to the business meeting. When we got home at 8:45, he STILL didn't want to go to bed. It was nearly 9:30 before he wanted to go to bed.

I guess he wants to get READY for bed at 6:45 but not go to bed.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Sun, 30 Jan 2005 00:43:12 GMT

Floating Age

Background: Dad is 87. He retired at the age of 70. All of this was one steady stream of talk while rocking back and forth.

"I am 80 years old. That's what I am."

"Everyone in my family lived to be 80 years old. I am 80 years old, so I won't live much longer."

"I retired at 80, and I get a US government pension. That is what I do."

"I have lived a long time. That is what I have done. I am 75 years old. I retired at 70. That is what I did. Since my family all lived to 80, I won't live much longer."

"I am 70 years old, I just retired. That is what I did. Now I get a pension."

"I am 72 years old. I retired just a couple of years ago. I went in to them and told them I wanted to retire and to give me a pension, so that is what they did."

"I am 80 years old. That is what I am. I have lived a long time. That is what I have done. I won't live to be much older, that is what I will not do."

"I am 73 years old. I retired last year. That is what I did. Now I am retired and I don't have to go to work."

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Wed, 26 Jan 2005 03:04:12 GMT

Cold Hands

"My hands are cold. That is true of them."

"I'm not guilty of any crime. My hands are cold."

"It's cold outside, so that's why my hands are cold."

"My hands are cold, but I'm not gulity of any crime."

"I've never committed any crime. That's true of me."

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Tue, 25 Jan 2005 00:36:44 GMT

Doors

Dad has an obsession about doors. He has been whining bitterly about being locked out of his room ever since we started preventing him from going to bed at 6:15 p.m.

Once he is IN bed, he has to have the door left open to get "fresh air." His room is well ventilated, and it gets much warmer when the door is shut. We can't move around in the kitchen without disturbing him. Since he goes to bed at 7:30, this would seriously limit us if we didn't ignore him and go on using the kitchen as we need. We leave the door slightly ajar and go on about our business. On especially cold nights, we try to close the door more because the sliding glass door just outside his bedroom causes the adjoining room to get cold.

Tonight Dad was unusually concerned about his door being left open.

"I need the door open. That is what I need."

"If the door is open, I can get fresh air. That is what I can get."

"I need lots of fresh air. That is what I need."

"If I don't get fresh air, I will die. That is what I will do."

"The door needs to be left open for fresh air. Three people have died in that room because they did not get fresh air. That is what they did."

Friday, January 21, 2005

Fri, 21 Jan 2005 15:53:32 GMT

Well, THAT Didn't Happen

There is an article in Tuesday's New York Times about weight loss being a common problem for people with Alzheimer's beginning in middle age before any symptoms of dementia appear. http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/18/health/18symp.html

Dad never had that problem. He is carrying 175 pounds on his very small-boned 5'8" frame with a 42" waist. This is an improvment from his greatest weight of over 200 pounds before we started restricting his diet. Unlike many elderly who quit eating, Dad is always ready to eat and often whines about not being fed. He will keep eating as long as there is food that he likes in front of him. (He won't eat anything that requires more than 2 or 3 chews per bite--too much work). There are also a few spicy dishes I occasionally prepare that he doesn't like. I bet he is an "over-taster" since he has always preferred bland foods.