My dad is losing ground, cognitively speaking, and he is in complete denial.
This is in addition to his near complete deafness, his drinking, and his (probable but totally denied) depression. Oh, and the anxiety that he refuses to admit to, even though I can hear him wake up at night with a shout.
I went with him to a doctor’s appointment, because it was scheduled on a day my mom works. See, Dad barely tolerates her coming along but has to because Mom is She Who Must Be Obeyed and also has over 40 years’ experience as a nurse. Me? Og help me, I may be an adult, but I’m a female, and worse yet, I’m his daughter, so I clearly know nothing, am competent at nothing, and under no circumstances should be taken seriously.
Except, the nurses and doctor quickly figure out that I understand medical terminology, my hearing is just fine, I can report my dad’s symptoms in a fairly objective and accurate manner, and if I don’t understand something, I ASK. So, they start talking to me instead of Dad, and Dad starts to pout. An 83 year old man pouting is not a pretty site.
The doctor relates that Dad got an 32% on his memory test. This is borderline between “below average” and “onset of dementia”. No kidding. Not real surprised. The doctor says that Dad can improve his score by socializing, doing crossword and sudoku puzzles, reading, and exercising. Dad nods his head in a friendly manner, and completely blows him off. By the time we get to the car, he’s already started to complain about how the memory test was rigged, because it wanted him to remember unrelated words and sequences of numbers.
No shit, Sherlock, that’s why it’s a memory test, not a word association test, a history test, a logical skills test, or an algebra test. I try to explain to him why the test is written that way, and that the score is norm referenced, not benchmarked, which means he didn’t get 32% of the questions right, he did worse than 68% of the rest of the world. But, I know nothing, because I am girly daughter. He flat out refused to consider doing crosswords, sudokus, going out for social activities, or even getting more exercise than his occasional 10 minute walks at the mall.
I overheard him making the same complaints about the memory test to one of his old buddies on his Saturday morning phone call. After I reminded him that it was Saturday, because he no longer remembers what day of the week it is.
His mood is markedly worse. He refuses to go back to the dentist to finish getting his teeth cleaned, because he’s phobic, and he refuses to believe that periodontal health has a strong influence on cardiac health. He’s anxious all the time, but he won’t talk to me about it (totally expected) or anyone else, and he won’t take his anti-anxiety medications. The last time the cable went out, he told me I had to fix it, because that’s all he had left to do.
Oh, and he’s started sleepwalking. He made it out to the garage four nights ago. Two nights ago, he went into the kitchen and took an extra dose of his blood pressure medications. Does anyone listen to me when I say I looked up sleep walking and read that the standard treatment is benzodiazepine at bedtime, which is exactly the type of anti-anxiety medication he’s been prescribed but won’t take? No.
My father’s mind is disintegrating in front of me. I would not be surprised to learn that he’s throwing small clots almost constantly. Not only will he not do anything to prevent his health from getting better, not only is he in complete denial about how bad it is, but he seems to be embracing the very worst things he can do for his health.
Part of me is starting to hope that he gets hit by a very large clot, so that he’s gone in an instant, instead of this slow slide into dementia, anger, and fear.
I had a dove fly into our kennel building not long ago and in the process of trying to get it out, it lost all of it’s tail feathers, so we kept it awhile until they grew back in. First thing I did? Put it in a crate - birds shit everywhere.