Monday, February 21, 2011

I try, but...

I try to live a somewhat normal life, feel like myself (sort of), go to little shops that have what I call cutesy-wutesy stuff, plan a craft, try to get organized, and then I go see Dad in the rehabilitation center and everything goes to hell in a handbasket (East Texas slang for "it all went to s---).

Starting last Monday, Dad's personality has changed/shifted (very common in Binswanger's Disease) and it's a real struggle to stay "up" around him. Last Tuesday he had forgotten that I had come to see him twice the day before and he said he was not happy, not happy at all, that there was nothing "family" about him being there, he never saw me, etc. I told him I had been there twice the day before and that I was so sorry that he was in this situation. He sort of just "deflated" and said, "I know, Honey, you're doing all that you can and then more".

I am exhausted, worn out, always feel so torn. I feel myself, as I'm walking into Grace Care Center, "girding" myself with a protective shield as I come closer and closer to his room, never knowing quite what I'll find. Will he be sitting in his wheelchair valiantly trying to feed himself, will he be sitting out by the nurses station because he has fallen recently and they're wanting to keep an eye on him, will he be curled up on the top of the bed fully dressed, will he be in physical therapy, gamely trying to do his assigned exercises? Rest assured, whichever of these scenarios it turns out to be, my heart breaks a little more as I mentally reinforce my protective shield and brightfully, cheerfully, say "Well, hey there, Dad - it's so good to see you!"

Must go now because as I write this, tears are overflowing, stomach is clinched, and I know I need to quickly do a few things around the house, shower, and then get up to see him. It has, after all, been almost 15 hours since I last visited.

No comments:

Post a Comment