“Ok Mom, you take care, let me talk to dad a second.”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken with Dad since he got out of the hospital. The diagnosis is years old, the problem is new every day.
Mom can’t take dad home unless he can walk and this stint in the hospital has taken all his oompf (as he would say).
I can hear a voice in the background, moaning. Mom says clearly, “Honey, it’s Carol. Do you want to talk to Carol?”
“Oh yes. That’s wonderful. Where is she? Here? Oh, the phone—hello sweetie!”
“Hi dad. How are you doing?”
“Oh much better now! I didn’t know where I was but now she’s here and we’re together now,” tears enter his voice, “it was okay before but we were really missing everyone!”
“Well, Dad, that’s why I called. I was missing you, too!”
“Well, yes. But she’s here now and I’m doing OK.” A pause and then, “When are you coming up?”
“Oh, Dad, I don’t know when I can get there. For now I just have to talk on the phone with you.”
“That’s great honey. But I miss everybody and I don’t really know where I am. She’s here now, so it’s better, but we don’t know where we are. There are lights and everything, but…” I can almost hear him looking around. “We just don’t know where we are for sure but we’ll figure it out. When are you coming up?”
“I don’t know, Dad, hopefully pretty soon.”
“Well, dear, we’ll just figure out where we are and I’ll tell you what, we’ll leave the light on for you.”
“It’s just hard to figure out where we are, but we’ll leave the light on for you so you won’t get lost and you’ll be fine honey. Come soon. Here’s Grandma.”
And just like that he’s gone.
Oh, Dad. In the midst of a nasty old disease like Alzheimer’s when reason and language desert you, you still have life figured out. God comes first, always, with you. And then your family; thanks for turning the light on for me.Sometimes in Alzheimer's the light is still on, and love shines through. #write31days #caregiver via@caregivermom Click To Tweet
Check out the series 31 Days of Unexpected Blessings from Caregiving