Transitions

It's been more than two months since my last blog entry.  I wrote of Dad's eyes following me, his hand grasping mine, him speaking with intent and urgency.  I remember he had just finished lunch and was quite alert.  His eyes, while not necessarily bright, were at least clear.  I can't help but wonder how he has lost so much ground since then and how it has been such a relatively quick and abrupt transformation.


"Pureed tuna salad".  If you say so...

 It seemed like he changed overnight, and while I don't think that's true, Alzheimer's is an unpredictable disease and maybe something just shifted in the brain to make this happen?  Now his eyes are distant, blank, empty.  It is like he is looking through me.  He barely utters a word, and I am unable to decipher if it's because he doesn't want to or is unable to- I think the latter.  He chokes on almost everything he eats now, because his body has forgotten how to properly swallow.  I can't bear to feed him the pureed shit that the facility provides, so I stock the fridge with yogurt and pudding, and at least when I'm there that's what he eats for dinner.

Feeding has become one of the biggest issues, but it's also one of the most important because food is the only thing keeping him going now.  Dad has always had a strong fear of choking- the story goes that he had a bad experience with a piece of hard candy when he was a kid and it traumatized him.  So for me to feed him yogurt and have him choke is agonizing for both of us, and I can only be thankful that I am there to comfort him.  It's a huge struggle for me- by feeding him I am giving him nourishment, and as long as he is willingly accepting food I will continue to do so.  At the same time, he is mostly likely going to eventually die from pneumonia or another infection that will develop when he chokes and aspirates, so each time I give him yogurt I am potentially enabling that.  It's my choice not to push him to eat- if he doesn't want it, I honor that. 

Julie, Dad's Hospice nurse, wanted to lower his psychotropic medication since he has been so much calmer and withdrawn but I guess every once in a while he still swears when they bathe him so the doctor said to keep the meds in place.  For the safety and ease of the staff, I don't want him to be combative but I also don't want to medicate away any awareness or expression that he is still able to communicate.  Henry G. Jackson Jr. never wanted people to take care of him and to do so without complaint wouldn't be my father.  And I want to hold on to any glimpses of him that I can while I still have the chance. 



October 2011