Chapter 10: Dad Comes for a Visit

Dad Comes for a Visit

With Spring just around the corner, I talked to Dad's social worker, Janis, about the possibility of having him come home for a short visit. It would help us experience firsthand what his needs were. While the plan to get a house for my parents was no longer a possibility, there was still a real hope that we could get approval for my father to live with us at our house. By having him visit, it would be the first, important step in making that a reality. To my absolute delight, without hesitation, she said that would be just fine.

While Dad had not been outside of an institution for nearly sixteen months, Bill and I were confident we could provide for all his needs and enjoy our time with him, whatever problems arose. My father deserved this little taste of freedom and I was elated to know we had a "green light" to make it happen. We set the visit for the first Wednesday in March and would bring him back to the facility on Friday afternoon.

Heading Out

The sky was clear that Wednesday morning, with a definite chill in the air, but it would be a perfect day to pick Dad up for his visit with us. We ate a quick breakfast and got on the road early, wanting to get there by mid-morning.

The staff had Dad's suitcase already packed when we arrived and the nurse gave me a bag of his medications, explaining what each one was for and when he needed to take them. As Bill carried the suitcase and medications, I took Dad by the arm and led him to the door of the locked unit. He appeared quite happy to be going out, but I'm sure he had no idea where we were going, or how long he would be gone. He and the staff exchanged some friendly good-byes and I was assured they were just a phone call away in the event any questions or problems arose.

The first hour of our drive home was filled with the sights of rural living...big farm houses, barns and silos, and a steady assortment of cows and horses. Taking in the sights reminded my father of Sheboygan, also known for its many farms, and we spent a happy hour talking about these familiar things.

The next leg of our trip was primarily expressway. At that point Dad comically replied, "Everything is whizzing by so fast I'm getting dizzy." We all chuckled and at my advice, he shut his eyes and settled down for a short nap. An hour later we stopped for lunch in one of the numerous small towns that dot northern Wisconsin. Dad needed a bathroom break and an opportunity to stretch his legs. We took him to the one place he readily recognized, McDonalds, where he was delighted to enjoy a cheeseburger and French fries.

Stomachs full, we set out to finish the drive home. Soon we entered the magic of the northwoods, where Dad could admire the majestic pine trees that snuggly lined the roadway. At that point he became quite talkative, as if a part of his memory and spirit woke up. As a young child, our yearly vacation always took place in this beautiful area, amid the crystal lakes and wildlife.


Settling In

Arriving at our house shortly after 2 p.m., Bill got the suitcase while I helped Dad get out of the car. After sitting for nearly three hours we were all stiff and it felt good to walk around. We gave Dad a tour of the house, finishing with the bedroom where he would be sleeping and the bathroom which was just a few steps away.

The one sight which caught his eye immediately was our three cats. He loved animals and smiled broadly as he sat down and encouraged one of them to sit in his lap. Just small, simple pleasures, but they meant so much to my father. I was delighted to see him so happy and content.

Bill and Dad both took a brief nap while relaxing in the living room, while I got busy making a nice home-cooked supper. It would be the first family meal he'd had in nearly 18 months. That evening, sitting around the table, we ate slowly, as if to prolong this precious time together.

Our first day had been wonderful and Dad fell asleep while watching television, with a faint smile of contentment on his face. When he awoke around 8 p.m., I gave him a dish of ice cream for a treat. We talked awhile and soon he said he wanted to go to bed. His bodily clock was still very much on the schedule he kept at the nursing home.

Like many elderly, he wanted to go to bed with his clothes on, but after a little gentle persuasion, he allowed me to help him change into pajamas. The only thing he adamantly refused to part with was his hearing aid. I could understand his fear of not being able to hear, especially since he was not in familiar surroundings, so I allowed him the comfort of keeping his hearing aid in place. Tucking him warmly into bed, I kissed him good-night, thanking God for the priceless opportunity of having my father with us.

As expected, Dad was up needing to use the bathroom several times that night. My room was just steps away from his and being the light sleeper I am, I readily awakened to help him. He wore Depends in an effort to keep dry, but with being a bit disoriented and sleepy, he never quite made it to the toilet in time

Aside from one "accident", in which I needed to change the bedding, Dad mainly just needed a change of Depends before going back to sleep. Thankfully, he was very cooperative and allowed me to help him get warm and dry before returning to bed.


A Reunion with Mom

The next morning, after an early breakfast, we headed out for a special visit with Mom. I had called the nursing home she was in to let them know Dad was coming. I asked that they dress her especially nice for the occasion.

She had no idea we were bringing my father to see her so it would be an unexpected but wonderful surprise. I knew she would recognize him, but I wasn't sure if he would remember her. His memory had become so foggy over the past nine months that when anyone mentioned "Geraldine", Mom's name, he often thought they were talking about his sister Ludmilla, who had died of tuberculosis some 60 years yearlier.

When we arrived at the nursing home, I wondered how the staff would respond to him, as he had left there under such undesirable circumstances. Thankfully they were kind and made him feel welcome. One person in particular, the activity director, was overjoyed to see him. She had taken a special liking to Dad when he lived there and quickly came over to greet him with a hug.

Walking into Mom's room ahead of everyone else, I was pleased to see her looking very nice. The staff had dressed her in a two-piece, knitted pants outfit in her favorite color, rose. She wore a necklace and earrings and had a touch of color in her face where the staff had taken extra time to apply her make-up.

She looked rather frail, the result of her long bout with that head cold, but her eyes and her smile were bright. Just as Bill arrived at the doorway to her room, I told her we had brought Dad to visit with her. The look of surprised delight on her face is something I will never forget. As Dad came into view, her face lit up with happiness. "Matt, Matt," she cried excitedly, reaching out with both arms to draw him near. He took her hands in his and bent over to kiss her on the cheek. Her room literally buzzed with activity over the next hour. Knowing this was indeed a treasured visit, I had my camera ready to capture the highlights of their reunion.

After a few hours, however, Dad grew restless and began walking down the halls, looking in all the rooms. He never had been one to sit very long. That was our cue to get lunch on the table in the private dining area we'd reserved. Dad, as usual, ate very well, but Mom had to be coaxed one bite at a time. It troubled me to see her eat so little. With the ongoing infection in her heel and the toll her lengthy cold had taken on her, she desperately needed to eat to regain her strength.

The fingers on her right had curled to such an extent that using a fork or spoon was no longer possible, and using her left hand was not something she would even try to do. Aside from finger foods, Mom basically ignored everything else. She finally did allow me to feed her, although I know it was difficult for her to accept my help. We take the ability to eat and drink much for granted. But if we could no longer bring the glass to our mouth, or balance our food on a fork or spoon, I just wonder how interested we would be in eating.

When we were alone in her room, Mom pulled me close and whispered, "Thank you for bringing Daddy here. It was so good to see him again." While we had assured her often that he was doing well, being able to see him with her own eyes made it a pleasant reality for her.

The busy visit left us all tired and when an aide came to ready Mom for a nap, I laughed and said we would be doing the same thing when we got home. Even though it had been a very positive, rewarding visit, it was emotionally draining as well and we were all tired.

Back at Home

It was early afternoon when we returned from visiting Mom. Daddy was no longer accustomed to being so active and after a quick visit to the bathroom, he took a solid two-hour nap. Bill and I relaxed by watching one of the many movies we own.

After supper that evening, Bill went out to the garage to do some chores. My father eagerly asked if he could go out to help. After getting the kitchen cleaned up, I went out to see what they were up to. I was amused to hear my dad exclaim, "You sure have a lot of stuff to put away out here yet!" Indeed we did. A number of boxes still remained along one whole wall from when we had everything moved out of their house.

Dad's dementia was clearly a direct result of his stroke, but the way it affected him was very similar to Alzheimer's disease. This was true especially in that he was more alert in the mornings and subject to confusion as the day wore on. This is commonly referred to as "Sundowner's Syndrome." I saw more evidence of this as the night wore on. Daddy was watching a movie on television...a typical drama with good guys and bad guys. While I didn't pay much attention to the plot, in one segment of the movie one of the characters began yelling at the other.

My father suddenly fumed, "He has no right talking to me that way!" It quickly dawned on me that he thought the man in the movie was directing his anger towards him, personally. I assured him the man was just an actor talking to another actor in the movie, not him. Dad seemed to accept my explanation but I quickly changed the channel to something more G-rated so Dad would not get upset again. It was a real eye-opener to realize just how confused my father could get in the evening hours.

After breakfast the next morning, we packed Daddy's suitcase and headed back to the care facility. Having him home for that short visit had been a pleasure and I seriously wanted to believe he could come live with us at some point. The effect on Dad had been so evident while he was with us...as if a part of him came alive again. He was so "at home" with us that it deepened my already firm belief that he needed to live in our loving family environment.

Arriving back at the care facility, we walked with Dad back to his unit, rang the bell and waited for someone to unlock the door. As the nurse held the door open for us to enter, Daddy made us all laugh by doing a little two-step dance. Seeing his fun-loving side appear once again, I knew this visit had been so good for him.

The memories of that short visit with us are something I will always hold dear. Those few days of "freedom" at home with us were cherished and to be able to arrange for Mom and Dad to see each other was wonderful.

I firmly believe that when the elderly can no longer live alone, they should be assured of living in the least restrictive environment possible. While a number of communities now actively work towards that end, countless people are still at the mercy of social workers and judges to determine their fate, as was the case with my parents.

At the end of this book, you will find a useful set of legal guidelines, thanks to Attorney Paul Sturgel, an elder care specialist. I strongly encourage everyone to read through this overview and take steps to ensure that you or your loved ones are never denied the basic human right to the "pursuit of happiness."