As mentioned in previous posts my dad has Parkinson's Disease (PD). He was given this tentative diagnosis in 2006. After a battery of tests he was given a definitive diagnosis of PD last year. He was sick and in the hospital about 6 months ago for an unrelated ailment. While in the hospital he fell and hit his head and ended up with a hematoma on his head. From that day forward his health has declined dramatically. :frown:
Right before I left for Tijuana in April, I was talking to my dad and I noticed he was drooling as he was reading the paper. I was so shocked I couldn't be grossed out. I just grabbed a paper towel and wiped him up. It was at that moment that I had the very selfish thought that, "OMG, this is what the rest of my life is going to be." Drooling is one of those unpleasant symptoms no one tells you about. You have to research to find that out. Another symptom of PD is losing the ability to swallow and talk. His voice often fades to a whisper which we can barely hear by 6 PM. My father, the family orator, with the splendid resonant bass that used to sing solos in the church choir and spirituals or Billy Preston tunes at home when the mood struck him. Now I can barely hear him when he asks me to pass the salt across the table.
His movements are slow to say the least; but I think the worst part is that his mind is still as sharp as it was 10-15 years ago. It's just that his body is falling down around him.
I know Parkinson's Disease is a degenerative disease and he gets weaker seemingly by the week; but for some reason I thought he and we would be spared certain indignities. He hasn't been able to drive since February because of the neuropathy in his feet and the uncontrollable but intermittent tremors. This was and is a very hard thing for him to deal with. He just turned 80 last week and he has probably been driving about 65+ years if you count the tractors on the farm where he was reared in New Jersey.
Mom and I try to let him do as much as he can so as not to emasculate him. Unfortunately last week our neighbor across the street saw him taking out the trash and ran over to help him; because she said he looked pathetic, like he was going to fall. He always looks like that now! His once straight and proud 6'2" frame seems to be permanently hunched over now. Mom and I have kind of gotten used to it. If she thinks he looks frail taking out the trash with his cane in one hand and that giant wheeled can in the other she should see him trying to sit down or stand up. His muscles are atrophying and he hates to do his exercises.
Two good things came out of our neighbor embarassing him by taking the trash can out of his hand. Turns out our neighbor who truly is a sweetheart is a hospice volunteer. 1) She put us in touch with a nurse at Altus which is a hospice service. I always thought hospice was a place people went to die, and that scared the fire out of me. The way the nurse explained it to me, hospice is like the cavalry, they come in to help save the family/caregivers. My mom was supposed to be there when this nurse explained all about hospice but she conveniently forgot. I think she is having a more difficult time than I am accepting the changes and decline in her husband. For a fiercely independent woman she depends on dad a lot.
2) The nurse who came to tell me about hospice owns a local retail store and she needs part-time help. I went for an interview on Friday and I start Monday (today!). It's a small store and they sell scrubs to nurses and other medical professional as well as shoes, watches and stethoscopes. I will only be working two days a week and alternate Saturdays, it doesn't pay much. However, I think it's important that I have a life outside of being a caregiver. I think that when the time comes it will help me to have a life outside of nursemaid.
And for added fun mom's primary care physician diagnosed her as being in the early stages of dementia last fall. I try not to get angry when she accuses me of stealing her jewelry or a favorite sweater or blouse. Usually it's at the dry cleaners or she has just misplaced it.
Why did I call this blog accepting the inevitable? Because I know that one day my father is going to die; and as a daddy's girl that terrifies me. I just can't imagine my life without him in it. :frown:
I know there are many others here who are caregivers to spouses, parents, and other loved ones. How do you handle it? How did you learn to accept the inevitable, yet still live in the moment?
Right before I left for Tijuana in April, I was talking to my dad and I noticed he was drooling as he was reading the paper. I was so shocked I couldn't be grossed out. I just grabbed a paper towel and wiped him up. It was at that moment that I had the very selfish thought that, "OMG, this is what the rest of my life is going to be." Drooling is one of those unpleasant symptoms no one tells you about. You have to research to find that out. Another symptom of PD is losing the ability to swallow and talk. His voice often fades to a whisper which we can barely hear by 6 PM. My father, the family orator, with the splendid resonant bass that used to sing solos in the church choir and spirituals or Billy Preston tunes at home when the mood struck him. Now I can barely hear him when he asks me to pass the salt across the table.
His movements are slow to say the least; but I think the worst part is that his mind is still as sharp as it was 10-15 years ago. It's just that his body is falling down around him.
I know Parkinson's Disease is a degenerative disease and he gets weaker seemingly by the week; but for some reason I thought he and we would be spared certain indignities. He hasn't been able to drive since February because of the neuropathy in his feet and the uncontrollable but intermittent tremors. This was and is a very hard thing for him to deal with. He just turned 80 last week and he has probably been driving about 65+ years if you count the tractors on the farm where he was reared in New Jersey.
Mom and I try to let him do as much as he can so as not to emasculate him. Unfortunately last week our neighbor across the street saw him taking out the trash and ran over to help him; because she said he looked pathetic, like he was going to fall. He always looks like that now! His once straight and proud 6'2" frame seems to be permanently hunched over now. Mom and I have kind of gotten used to it. If she thinks he looks frail taking out the trash with his cane in one hand and that giant wheeled can in the other she should see him trying to sit down or stand up. His muscles are atrophying and he hates to do his exercises.
Two good things came out of our neighbor embarassing him by taking the trash can out of his hand. Turns out our neighbor who truly is a sweetheart is a hospice volunteer. 1) She put us in touch with a nurse at Altus which is a hospice service. I always thought hospice was a place people went to die, and that scared the fire out of me. The way the nurse explained it to me, hospice is like the cavalry, they come in to help save the family/caregivers. My mom was supposed to be there when this nurse explained all about hospice but she conveniently forgot. I think she is having a more difficult time than I am accepting the changes and decline in her husband. For a fiercely independent woman she depends on dad a lot.
2) The nurse who came to tell me about hospice owns a local retail store and she needs part-time help. I went for an interview on Friday and I start Monday (today!). It's a small store and they sell scrubs to nurses and other medical professional as well as shoes, watches and stethoscopes. I will only be working two days a week and alternate Saturdays, it doesn't pay much. However, I think it's important that I have a life outside of being a caregiver. I think that when the time comes it will help me to have a life outside of nursemaid.
And for added fun mom's primary care physician diagnosed her as being in the early stages of dementia last fall. I try not to get angry when she accuses me of stealing her jewelry or a favorite sweater or blouse. Usually it's at the dry cleaners or she has just misplaced it.
Why did I call this blog accepting the inevitable? Because I know that one day my father is going to die; and as a daddy's girl that terrifies me. I just can't imagine my life without him in it. :frown:
I know there are many others here who are caregivers to spouses, parents, and other loved ones. How do you handle it? How did you learn to accept the inevitable, yet still live in the moment?