Be Wise: A Daughter's Reluctant Journey Through Dementia
Three things made 2012 a benchmark year in my life: freed from the arduous challenge of single motherhood, I began a yoga teacher training program at an urban ashram in Atlanta, GA, and relit the flame of my career ambitions as a voice actor; my 82-year-old father, the civil engineer, forgot how to make coffee; and my 80-year-old mother, the card shark, got lost driving to a Bridge game.
So, when I visited my parents in Chicago that January, I needed my parents to be the self-sufficient, intelligent people who raised me, so I could fly free. I needed them to be normal.
At first they seemed like the parents I knew.
"So how are you doing, Daddy?" I'd asked casually.
"Oh, great, now that you're here," he responded with his characteristic charm, sitting at the kitchen table that was the center of my parents' daily life.
"But how are you really feeling?" I asked again. Waiting for his answer, I noticed an irritating chirp somewhere above my head. "What's that?" I asked myself.
"Fine. Great!" Dad gave his boilerplate response.
"Did you hear anything from the doctor since your last visit? Any prognosis? Diagnosis?" Another chirp sounded. I couldn't believe they didn't hear it, but I pushed the thought aside.
"Well, they're figuring it out. I've got notes here…." Daddy trailed off and started patting his pockets. "My notepad …" He found it and opened the tiny booklet.
My anxiety increased as the chirping repeated, and I saw his handwriting. My mother always had him write out thank you cards and invitations because Dad taught himself calligraphy and could make art with his fluid pen. This handwriting was spidery, illegible, crawling up the sides of the page. I couldn't read it, and neither could he. The chirp alerted again. I realized it was the smoke detector.
"I can't explain it right now," he muttered. Then he spoke his favorite refrain about his condition: "We've got the best minds on it."
I looked at my father. He didn't hear the alert. I could replace the battery, but I didn't know how I'd fix my father.