18+ General Discussion Forum

My father has suffered from Parkinson's Disease for over 20 years now. For the last 5, we have wondered how he's kept alive so long and why. He has lost all his physical functioning and requires 24/7 care from 3 personal attendants. He barely speaks or seems to notice other people. He has dementia. He turns 80 next month.

Dad used to be the rock of the family. The youngest of four, he became successful in business. He helped many a niece or nephew out financially and in other ways when they needed it. Although he worked long hours, he was there for us when my sister and I needed him. He reports having changed diapers and given late night bottles. I remember him tucking us into bed at night, reading us stories, recording interviews with us on his tape recorder, going with my mother to parent teacher meetings, playing ball with me, typing my first high school term paper, teaching me to drive. He and my mother talked to us about current events and passed on their liberal values. They sent us to Freedom School during a one-day protest of de facto segregation. They encouraged our protest against the Viet Nam war.

He was also an actor who inspired my childhood love for acting. Frequently the star of our community theaters shows, he had many fans. He was generous in his charitable giving and even chaired some charity drives. He would stand up before an audience and recall how as the child of immigrants during the Depression he was sent to camp through charitable donations. Now, he felt it was his responsibility to be the donor. He played duplicate bridge reasonably well, ran some tournaments, and taught bridge to beginners.

He already had very early Parkinson's Disease when he retired, but he and my mother traveled the world, often on bridge tours. He was not so keen on traveling as my mother, but he went along with it and seemed to enjoy himself. He played tennis and golf when after he was no longer able to get partners and long after it was appropriate for him to do so. He had a sense of humor about it.

"Hey Leon, what are you doing playing golf alone," one of his friends called out to him on the golf course one day.

"Winning," my father replied.

It's probably been 10 years since my father played golf. Now his days are filled with living in the minutia of the moment: being fed, being bathed, etc; or living who knows where: mumbling seemingly to no one and gesticulating oddly. When I visit several times a year (he lives in Florida, a plane ride away) he doesn't seem to notice, let alone recognize me. Yet usually sometime before I leave, he surprises me and says something like, "Hello, Marcia."

Well, hello, Dad. I hope it's pleasant or at least not so bad, wherever it is you are at the moment.

Marcia

Please share thoughts about your father this Fathers Day weekend.