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To all the new lovely people reading my blog: I originally started it primarily to support a book I was trying to publish. I posted excerpts from the book for a long time, so I encourage you to go back and read some of the first posts if you'd like a taste of the book! I might re-post some of my favorite excerpts, as well. I'm still working on getting it published so I hope to be able to announce soon on the blog that its coming out! Until then I love and welcome your comments, advice, links, and everything else. Keep reading!

Personal Post

In the several months I've been with my boyfriend, my social circle has expanded exponentially due to the fact that he knows about 4,000 people. What I find both interesting and sad is the fact that I have discovered two people so far that are facing the same struggle I faced several years ago: finding care for a parent; making difficult choices; and grieving the loss of a loved one to some form of dementia. Two people out of about 25 to 30, and that's not even including the times I met and spoke to people and what I do for my father never came up. How did this happen? More and more people my age are facing the long road of care and hard choices and sorrow and all we can do is band together and try to help each other on the journey.

Barbecue

A few weeks ago, the AFH where Dad lives had a family barbecue. It happened to fall on the first day with actual sun we've had in Seattle, so that was a plus. I went with my boyfriend, and we met my sister there. We all sat with Dad around a table, talking and laughing. I'm not sure he completely knows who we are anymore, but he responded like he always has to my sister's funny stories of the strange things that happen to her. We all got plates of food, and I felt a low-level panic because I've never had to help Dad eat before. Luckily, he would occasionally pick up his fork, load it with food, and bring it to his mouth, but more often he just sat there. One of the care-givers came over and fed him a few bites, indicating it was okay to feed him. So I picked up the fork, put some food on it and brought it to his lips. He seemed a little reluctant at first, although I don't know if that was because he didn't want any food just then. If he does have some glimmer of who I am, was it hard for him to have the daughter HE once fed, feed him?

Personal Post

I'm so excited to suddenly see followers and people commenting. Bring it on, I love telling people my experiences and hearing theirs. If I can help in any way, I'll answer any questions. I'm still trying to get representation for my book; an agent was really interested but in the end turned it down so I'll keep trying! Thanks so much for reading, send me your info and I'll check out your blogs as well!

Part III

I ended up calling the employer of our aide and explaining the situation, asking that he not visit until the situation had been resolved. They were great, and when they called him into a meeting, he admitted to some wrongdoing, but he also accused the house of not taking care of Dad as well if he wasn't there, etc., etc. He eventually called me and explained his side of the story, apologizing, but also going into a diatribe about Adult Family Homes and how they had lied about him somewhat. I told him how much we appreciated him, that I was sure the truth was somewhere in the middle, and that eventually he would be allowed to see Dad again. I believe he was somewhat mollified. And the owner of the AFH gets complete control of Dad now, in a good way, but in exactly the way I suspect he wanted. I'll keep letting him think that and only rattle his cage occasionally. Its just amazing to me the twists and turns this whole process has taken, and the drama that still surrounds my father, demented and ill as he is.

Part II.

I sat there at the table for a bit, listening to the owner expound upon our aide's wrongdoing and the ways in which it had disrupted the house, etc., etc. He's a strong-willed man, an immigrant from a Communist country (yet again, other cultures taking care of our elderly!), and while being a lovely man, is forthright and likes things to go his way. When I deal with him, I have to use what my boyfriend, Paul, calls my "Big Girl Voice" in order to make sure he doesn't walk all over me! I soothed him, telling him that, of course, I'd be dealing with the problem and calling our aide's employer to discuss the problem with them, but that our aide wouldn't be coming to the house until we'd figured out the situation. This seemed to go a fair way toward soothing the owner, but every time I suggested that we might have the aide, who is, after all, almost like a brother to Dad, it sparked yet another discussion about how well they tried to take care of Dad and how they relied on their good reputation, etc., etc. I sensed I was being played, so I said firmly how much I relied on their care and judgement, how secure I felt having Dad in their hands, and how I trusted them, but that I would be making any final decisions about who came to see Dad, as long as it didn't interfere with how their house operated.

The case of the disappearing aide.

I received a phone call from the owner of the Adult Family Home. Ostensibly, the call was to ask me to visit so I could sign a document. However, it soon became obvious that there was another reason; he wanted to complain about Dad's long-time friend/aide. Apparently, the aide had been coming almost every day, as he was scheduled, however, he was often going directly into Dad's room and napping for most of the day. He was not taking Dad out on little trips nearly as often as he reported, and the owner felt he was causing a mild disruption in the house. He also mentioned that the families of other residents, and specifically one woman who visited her husband every other day, were bugging him to do something about it, or at least to inform me. I have to admit, I was a little shocked and speechless. Dad's aide has been with us from the beginning, almost eight years, and I didn't know who to believe in this!