My Dad is my Hero

My Dad

In the summer of 2009, Dad and I went to the Lexus Senior Open held in Carmel, Indiana.  I had noticed that Dad was not as sharp as he had been.  We work well together when doing home projects. We were repairing wood that had rotted on the bottom of my shed and I noticed some thing so simple as replacing the wood, was taking him a considerable amount of time. He was seventy six, but he was a healthy seventy six year old.  He had been retired for twenty seven years from General Motors and he kept active playing golf every day.  

They had driven straight through which was normal as mom does not like to stay in hotels.  She has a phobia for "germs," but she also does not  help with the driving.  When they arrived, it was late at night and they came in to go to bed.  The next day at the office she called me in a panic asking me if I could look up a phone number for her.  She wanted to know the number to my dad's cardiac physician. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "Nothing."

This is my mother.  Call me and ask for the phone number of my father's cardiac doctor and tell me nothing is wrong.  She can test my patience some days.  I refused to look up the number until she told me what was wrong.  Dad  was having heart palpitations. He had been having them and was on medicine but the medication was not working.  I gave her the number and rushed home.

She sat in the living room in tears.  She didn't know what she'd do without him.  He was in the guest bedroom laying down.  I came in and sat down next to him, taking his hand, "How do you feel, Dad?"

"I'm fine." Lord, have mercy, they were both going to give me a heart attack of my own!

"Dad, if you are fine, why are you laying in here?"

"I am just dizzy and my heart is racing."  I grabbed my stethoscope and blood pressure equipment.  Time to play nurse.  His heart was beating rather quickly, but his blood pressure was fine. It didn't make sense. He and I both have low blood pressure, so perhaps a normal reading was high considering it is usually lower than normal.  My mother stood in the hallway as though if she entered the room, she'd catch whatever he had.  I don't know how this woman raised two children and didn't flinch when they were ill or bleeding.  But as she has aged, it is difficult for her to show any compassion to any other human.

He hadn't eaten and so I made him a lunch.  He seemed to get better shortly after and we just kept an eye on his pulse over the month they were here. He refused to go to the emergency room, so there was not much else I could do.

My father has taught me so much over the years whether it is repairing some thing around the house or teaching me to lead and not follow through his actions, he has always been  my hero. He listens to me when I am frustrated with my mother and he supports me in my career.  I can't tell you how many times I can talk to him about work and he understands my frustrations.

The psychic had told me my father was here to teach me all he could before it was too late and that we'd do projects around the house.  I was to gather as much as I could absorb before he no longer was able to teach me his gifts.

My father was in the early stages of losing his memory.  It was why he struggled to do tasks that before had come so naturally.  He is in the early stages of dementia now, four years later and he has changed so much from the man I called my Dad.  He is still Dad, but he worries about every thing now, where before, he didn't worry about it if he could not do some thing about it.

He repeats the same stories over and over or mixes them together, all signs of this terrible disease.  He was in denial for a couple of years, claiming he was  old and just forgetful, but dementia runs on both sides of his family. They live to be dinosaurs, but they can't remember they are part of the human race.  I recently wrote to my father's doctor to express my concerns as I knew his pride would never allow him to discuss his deficits. He is aware of some of them, but not all of them.

The doctor recently shared my letter with him and ordered a MRI that supported he is having issues.  I thought he might be upset with me.  My parents are private about their health issues, but, he wasn't. The doctor told him that I cared and that he should thank me for bringing this to his attention.  My mother will not attend appointments with my Dad as he likes to go in the morning and she "doesn't do mornings," so if he is told some thing, he might forget it before he gets home.  I suggested they write every thing down and send it home with him.  It has made some things simpler, but we have a long road ahead of us.