His 84th birthday...

October 1st... His birthday.

We were in a "family" dining room at his assisted living facility. 13 of us were crammed around a table built for 8. We ate yummy Labella's meatballs, torpedoes, anti pasta and garlic bread!

Oh yum!

His only Sister was in town. When asked if he knew who she was, he responded in german "meine schwester", my sister. But he didn't attempt to converse with her. It's almost as if he was seeing her in a photograph.... not sitting next to him at the table. His perception of reality is altered.

He ate most of his dinner without much help. He liked his birthday cake - but didn't eat much of it.


He opened presents from his step-daughter... with some help. One of them was a farm animal puzzle, for ages 3+. The rest of it was packages of junk food.


What does an 84 year old man with Alzheimer's want for his birthday?

Sadly, the answer is "nothing tangible". He needs to be loved, cared for, kept clean, fed and protected.


When we sang him Happy Birthday he didn't look up. Then I wondered if this will be his last birthday? Will we get to sing him "Happy Birthday" again next year? If so, will he realize we were singing to him?

A visit with 2 of the grandkids

Yesterday... my brother came into town to visit Grampa. This is what the day looked like...

But first, a little more about my brother. He is a pilot. He had a few days off in-between schedules. So he came "home" for a very brief trip. (Well, this isn't my brother's "home" anymore - but it is still Grampa's home.) I don't get to see my brother very often so I more than enjoyed our time together. Every meal we ate consisted of some sort of mexican food!

We drove south to where Grampa lives. And on the way there I shared details with my brother on the different "modes" I've seen Grampa in. It's been 6 weeks since Grampa moved into his new home and I've noticed the following frames of mind that he's in: work mode, chit-chat mode or shut-down mode. Today he was in chit-chat mode.

Throughout the several hour visit it didn't appear Grampa recognized either of us. He was speaking ABOUT us... but he didn't recognize us. Several times he looked at me and called me by the name of my mother. I reminded him that I was her daughter... not his daughter. Which just confused him more. But we've learned that it does help his brain to tell him who we are. He pauses for a few seconds, looks at us again (blinking his eyes, literally)... he then looks back and forth from face to face and continues with the conversation.

My brother told Grampa about recent trips he had flown into areas of Wisconsin. My brother spoke of flights into many WI cities Grampa lived in, camped in and his children were born in. True to our family roots, we sat around and told stories.

As noted above, today Grampa was in his "chit chat mode". When I first sat down in front of him he scooted forward in his chair, looked me right in the eyes, grabbed my hand and said "I've wanted to tell you. I got in trouble and was in jail." I couldn't tell if he was speaking in metaphor (being in a large room with other people, with locked doors at both ends of the wing) or if was really trying to tell me a story from his past.

(I was later told by mom that he WAS in jail ... when he was in the army. Something about being AWOL. But I've been told the rest of those details are highly confidential and I am prohibited from sharing them in this format. Wink, wink...)

On several occasions, throughout yesterday's visit, he asked about his Mom. He wanted to know if she was around. He wanted to know if she "lived here too". I told him that she was in Heaven. Again, seeing his brain turn back "on" he paused for a few seconds. He looked into my eyes and then at my brother. And then he changed the subject.

I think on some level he knows he's forgetting things... but he probably cannot figure out why. Instead of shaming him ... we divert him down the right path and keep him at peace. We move along w/ the conversation and see if he "catches up" to us.

Whether he does or doesn't... we still love him. He's our "Big Man", our Grampa!

A Caged life for Grampa

Another day at the hospital... and a caged life for Grampa. He couldn't understand why we wouldn't let him out of bed to walk around. All he wanted to do was walk. We would pull the sheet back to reveal the large bandage around his knee. And he would look at it completely perplexed as to what happened...

He would sigh and sit back in bed.


Today's flashback took us back to only 45 years ago. He is talking to the men who worked for him.... 45 years ago. But they were no longer in the room.

He keeps looking at his watch and saying "We're running out of time. We need to work fast." He would ask how "Lehman" was doing and if I'd seen "Jones". Then he started speaking about "Tubbman", another one of his men. But now he was talking in past tense - as if he were speaking up at his funeral.

And he stopped himself and looked at me... with a look that told me he was confused again.

In just a moment's notice... his brain would turn back on.

Countdown to Alzheimer's

He came out of surgery in a haze. A deep haze. He didn't know why he was in the hospital. All he needed was a knee replacement.

Now he couldn't remember why he was here. At first he didn't remember my name. He couldn't remember the name of his second wife... he called her my Grandmother's name instead. But even as he spoke Grandmother's name I could tell he knew that wasn't right. He had the look in his eye... "Why am I confused?"


Day after day I sat with him in the hospital. He would sleep. He would wake up. Sometimes he would remember my name. Sometimes he wouldn't. Sometimes he remembered my cousins' names... and not mine. Sometimes he called me "Jim". (I'm his oldest granddaughter and do not resemble a "Jim" of any sort.)



And then he would have a few moments of flashback. It was presumedly 65 years ago, in his world.

I sat with him as he assembled hats. (This was his job 65 years ago.) Assembling hats for the other men in his troop. He folded imaginary fabric in his lap. Layer after layer. Hat after hat. He folded, and folded ... and folded.


And then, as if he snapped back into reality, he looked right at me and asked "Did you kill anyone in the war?"

Just a glimpse of his state of mind.

It's a slow fade...

The awareness that Alzheimer's was entering our lives hit us square in the face several years ago.

Grampa was starting to forget the 2nd half of a sentence when he telling a story.

He would look at me and start to say something, call me by someone else's name... and then immediately he would know that was the wrong name. But he couldn't figure it out. So I would offer up my name... "HI GRAMPA! It's Lori!"


Most of the times that would help. He would usually remember.


Sometimes he wouldn't.


His wife, my step-grandmother, started making excuses for him. She would hide their reality from us. She would explain he wasn't available to come to the phone. And when we wanted to visit she would say they weren't going to be home. And when Christmas rolled around ... they were "going to be spending Christmas with her kids this year". She didn't know how to handle it. She thought by changing his meds he could get better. She tried everything she knew. But she couldn't hide it anymore...


Our "Big Man" just wasn't there anymore.

That's what he used to say to the grandsons. I used to be able to hear the boys wrestling in the living room... and then Grampa would come in and swoop one of them up off the carpet. And the boys would giggle... and Grampa would say to my cousin "Who's The Big Man now?! Huh?!" Grampa would tickle him until he would relent: "You are Grampa! You're The Big Man!" Pleased with his eldest grandson's response... he'd set him free. And the boys would go back to wrestling on the living room floor. Oh the memories that come flooding in...


I couldn't tell you when it happened exactly... but our family eventually realized that Alzheimer's was approaching and we better be ready for it.