Tonight's picture was taken in April of 2003. Mattie was one year old. He was beginning to toddle around by holding onto furniture and our hands. Mattie used to love looking at this photo as he got older! In particular, if you look at the photo below, you will see what I mean. This photo was literally the before and the one below was the after!
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Quote of the day: My little dog—a heartbeat at my feet. ~ Edith Wharton
So much in life is the little things. This afternoon, I had to create more daily checklists for my dad. I started checklists about two years ago with him. Without a checklist, my dad will brush his teeth about five or six times in one morning, use mouthwash like water, and shave multiple times. The checklist helps him keep track of his bathroom activities. I think the checklist helped him for a year or so, but now his mental decline is so significant. Even with the checklist, he forgets to check it, and does things repeatedly. I now have to regulate toothpaste and mouthwash, otherwise, he will go through a tube/bottle in a week! My dad's decline is noteworthy, sad, and frustrating at times. As I was printing out daily checklists for May, June, and July, I naturally reflected on my dad's Alzheimer's disease, but I also reflected on my marriage.
Each time I print out a season of checklists, I say to myself... maybe next season will be better for me. So far I have survived the fall, winter, and now moving into the spring. It is funny how the mind works, thinking and hoping that things can change for the better. But at the end of the day, I am a realist. I am not sure what keeps me going day to day.
I took my parents out to lunch today. My dad had a full meal. When we got home, I got him toileted and then back in his recliner. Within minutes he said..... do you think we should go out for a meal so you don't have to cook? The sentiment is lovely, but honestly I lost it. I had just finished a full journey out that I find it absolutely incredible he did not remember traveling in the car, he did not remember eating, he did not remember our conversation, and basically it is very demoralizing. Naturally I know my dad can't help it, but it is a disease that can make the caregiver feel beyond unstable and given my current situation, I do not need any help.
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