One of the first things I did when Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's was sign him up for Safe Return, a program set up through the Alzheimer's Association. He was registered in their datebase with my contact info and received a bracelet identifying that he had Alzheimer's and to call them if he was found wandering or if something happened to him. I expected him to argue with me, but he let me put it on with no contest. I think on some level it provided him reassurance, as well. I later got him a second bracelet with "Call Daughter Carrie," my phone number, and his medicines listed. When he did go out alone he was careful to just go around the block, the neighbors were always looking out for him. Only once did he run into a problem, but unfortunately the bracelet didn't do us any good.
At the time he had a caregiver in the mornings and I was going over to his apartment once or twice a day to check on him and make dinner. One afternoon about four years ago I popped in around 4:30p, and when I couldn't find him I assumed he was out for a walk. I made him a cup of cocoa, straightened up a bit and waited for him to come back. After 20 minutes or so I left a note in the kitchen, went outside and walked up and down the street. Getting concerned, I jumped in the car and started slowly driving around the neighborhood, asking anyone I saw if they had seem him. I went to all the places we had walked together- the lake, Starbucks, the library, even Jewel. There was no sign of him, and his neighbors didn't know anything. After an hour and a half of this I frantically called 911 and filed a missing person's report. An officer met me at his apartment, and I gave her pictures, descriptions, medical history, and guesses at what he might have been wearing. The officer told me to stay in the apartment and sent six squad cars out looking for him. Restless, anxious and imagining the worst, I busied myself with calling everyone I knew in the area to alert them what was going on. My mom and one of her friends came down and started canvassing as well. It was getting dark and I was boarderline hysterical. My father had been lost for almost five hours with no leads.
I was sitting on his kitchen floor at 9:30p in tears, my head in my hands, when I saw the ambulance lights flash out front. I ran outside to see two paramedics unloading my father from the truck and leading him to the apartment. I stared, dumbfounded, for a moment before running up to them. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream- I think I emitted a sound that combined all three. Dad's face was wrapped up in bandages but he was walking. After giving him a hug I asked them what, the fuck, exactly, was going on.
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| Dad, after the bandages came off |
They didn't have the whole story, but I was able to piece together that Dad had gone outside in the early afternoon, tripped over something and taken a spill. He was badly cut and bleeding profusely, and fortunately a passerby saw him and called 911. They took him to Evanston Hospital, where he underwent a CT scan, an MRI, received 13 stitches to his face, and was being held for observation. He had told them his name and they were able to look up his information and medical history. My phone number was the only one in his records, and I was listed as the primary contact and power of attorney. Nobody ever called me. This still blows my mind. I had taken him to the same ER a month before to have a dog bite attended to. They didn't look at his ID bracelets, and though they knew from his records he had Alzheimer's they just were treating the immediate problem, not the whole person. I had a heated, lengthy conversation with the head of the ER the next day and the best explanation she could give me was that it was a busy night and they had some new med students working. I was livid and threatened halfheartedly to sue, but I knew I didn't have the time or energy. She wrote off the hospital, doctor, and ambulance fees and we left it at that. I just wanted the nightmare to be over.
I try as much as possible to focus on the present moment when I'm with dad now, and not think about all we've been through together. Last week, though, the nursing home gave everyone new standard identity bracelets and gave me the old ones back. This story flooded into my thoughts, and I was reminded of how traumatic it was for both of us. Just one more link in the bond he now seems unable or unwilling to break.
