Laugh or Cry (Bringing my father home)

After a few months of flying back and forth trying to undo the damage that my sister had done to my father's mental health Shawn and I made the trip we had hoped we wouldn't have to - to go against my father's wishes and take him out of his home so that he could come live with us here in Nevada. We hope to be able to provide him with the interaction with family and extra stimulation to slow the progression of his Alzheimer's disease and make his last days before he loses knowledge of who we are joyful.

We started our adventure on the morning of New Year's Eve. Loaded up the Volvo and set out for Winslow, Arizona. Yep, just like in the Eagles song. I am so thankful for a husband who tried to make an unwelcome trip have some pleasant memories for me. We had such a great time together, even though it was a quick drive - 2300 miles in three days. We had New Year's Eve dinner in a wonderful restored hotel that was as much fun to tour as it was to eat in. La Posada is a stop worth making for the history of the place. We "stood on the corner" with the statue and the wall mural of the "girl in the flatbed Ford" in 2 degree weather on New Year's Day and then hit the road again. We enjoyed each other again like we used to when we had more time on our hands and weren't so tired each day from work and routine. The next two days were relaxed and fun and I think I was the friend I used to be to my husband. Now others have taken that place in his life, but for a couple of days it was us again.

In Alabama we tried to figure out what to do with his house and his belongings, but it was a process that my brother and I were reluctant to make final decisions on. Then there was the heartache of being appointed my father's guardian. Afterwards we rushed to take care of the changes that needed to be made to transfer him here, packed everything we needed immediately in a bag and prepared to leave the next day. It was hard having to tell him half truths to get him in the car peacefully, especially since no one could tell him goodbye properly for fear of upsetting him. He was OK for most of the first day, but as darkness began to fall he started wanting to go home and asking where we were going. Even then, he was upset, but soon forgot and we spent the first evening in Oklahoma City in relative quiet, although he had some vivid dreams that prevented him from resting well.

Saturday he asked again where we were going and we explained once again, but this time it seemed to sink in and he demanded that we turn "his van" around and take him home. We explained why we couldn't and he grew angrier, and it broke my heart when he told him to get the hell away from him and never speak to him again. Then he cried. When I tried to offer him a napkin he slapped it away, so we let him be for a while.

That evening we stopped in Flagstaff, AZ and this is when his worry and fear overtook him. At first his delirium was cheerful - he somehow decided that we were traveling on a train in fine style with a cabin to ourselves. He thanked us for taking him on such a great trip, and knew who we were. As we went to bed he asked who was driving the next day and was very excited when I told him Shawn.

Then, at 3 am it turned into something else. He woke me up and insisted that I come sit near him so that he could tell me something I needed to know. When I sat on the edge of the bed he told me that the driver was "drunker than hell", that the kids next to us had just told him so. So I told him we were stopped for the night, but he said no, that he was looking at the speedometer and we were going 80 miles an hour. I asked where the speedometer was and he pointed to the ceiling...From there I watched as he went in and out of sleep, working on tasks with his hands that only he could see.

Our final day on the road was the saddest and the funniest all at the same time. As we drove his delirium reached its high point. At one point we had eight dogs and two or three imaginary passengers with us. He spent a few hours telling us that the horses, chickens and turkeys would not eat various foods that he offered them, and his neck pillow served as a freezing wet dog that someone had thrown in a pond, a sack of feed and various other objects. He shared food and jokes and even cigarettes with someone in the seat next to him. He had Shawn pick him out some fresh turkey hanging on the ceiling of the car. The high point was when Shawn offered him a drink of water after all of his hard work with the turkeys, and upon tasting the cool water he smacked his lips and chirped "COCKADOODLEDOO!!! and grinned the happiest of grins. He was obviously enjoying himself immensely and I was both gladdened and heartbroken. I thought to myself that if the choices were to see him miserable and angry over being removed from his home or lost in a world of delirium that he was happy in that I would rather see him in this happy state, even if it meant he didn't know who I was. How unfair is a world where a man takes pride in providing for himself and never asking for anything except to be able to live out the end of his days in his own place where he is comfortable, only to have that decision taken away from him by strangers?

His first night in our home was the most surreal as his delirium included a lady who insisted on using the restroom first, and a man who was under the sink in the bathroom trying to fix the toilet. He talked throughout the night, and at four in the morning went into Brandon's room and when Brandon put out his hand to let Daddy know where he was, Daddy promptly began dialing numbers on Brandon's palm, saying he needed a cell phone.

Laugh or cry.