“Jer, I think it might be time we think about the home option. A nurse is helpful, but he is declining and I don’t know if you should have to go through that alone. Nurse or not.”
She’s right. His deterioration has been hitting fast, and the doctors have said they don’t know how much longer because of the advancement of the disease. If we can find someplace that specializes in Alzheimer cases, he might be better off. I can’t imagine how painful it will be for him when he wakes up one day and he can’t remember anything. The specialists have tried to get me to prepare for that day, but I don’t want to. Is it awful of me to think maybe he will somehow be magically cured? That maybe one morning he will wake up and the episodes will just go away? Miracles happen, right?
“I’ll be over in an hour whether or not he’s back to normal. Find some places for us to look at today while I’m in town. Dad wouldn’t want you to suffer, and having to pretend to be someone else other than his son is just that.”
I hang up the phone, and collapse back down on the couch, waiting to see if my dad reemerges. He is just resting in his recliner, still sipping on his coffee, now watching an action movie.
“Would you like me to make you something for breakfast?” I ask, only to gauge where his headspace is. The episodes can last minutes or hours.
“I could go for some scrambled eggs right about now. Do we have any salsa in the fridge?” he asks.
He’s back. If he was still expecting for my mother, he would have asked why I would offer to make him breakfast? The episode is over, and I can be myself again. As petrifying as that situation was, I wouldn’t trade being able to spend time with him for anything.
The most baffling part of this disease is walking on eggshells, never knowing what to expect. Some days he’s fine, and other days he has multiple episodes. He’s approaching final stages, the doctor’s say, but he has had no trouble speaking or getting around. That’s what we have to watch out for, because that means it’s the beginning of the end.
I venture into the kitchen, snagging a bowl, fork, and the container of eggs out of the fridge and set them on the island. Scrambled eggs aren’t that hard to make, all you do is crack the egg, whisk them, and put them into a skillet and let it cook. It’s one of the very few things I know how to make. The nurse prepares him breakfast, but she’s off today. Thank god for Hazel and her big time salary because if not for her, I would have to quit my job and take care of him. Not that I wouldn’t do it in a heartbeat, after everything he has done for me. The nurse stays with him during the day while I work which is great, but when his episodes become more frequent, he is going to question why someone is in his house. He could get violent toward her, and she doesn’t deserve that.
My development job was becoming more demanding and begging me to work greater hours, so I took Damon up on his offer to go work for the Fire Department. In Aiden’s absence, they haven’t hired a replacement yet, so it works out. At least, there I will have a set schedule whereas the construction company could work me thirty hours a week or sixty with no warning. Right now is not the time for me to spend an insane amount of time at work. It’s better spent with him.
I move the eggs around the skillet, waiting for them not to be so runny, and I peek in on dad to make sure he’s alright while I wait. I will not mention the episode to him, but we will at some point have to explain why he’s going to a facility, and Hazel might be the best person for that. I’m afraid I might be too emotional.
The eggs are ready and I take a spoon and dish them out onto two plates, adding salsa on top for my dad. It’s the only way he’ll eat them. I’ve tried it, but thought it was disgusting. Just plain ole eggs for me.
“Here you go.”
We sit and eat them while ending the action movie that’s already playing on television. I’m not much of an action fan, but when my dad’s around it’s pretty much all he watches. He’s a huge fan of Bruce Willis. When we were younger, he would drag both Hazel and me to the theaters to watch the premiers, and we never complained. It was nice to have someone who wanted to be around us. Being a foster kid, bouncing around from home to home, the parents never bonded with us, and most didn’t want to. It was all about the monthly paycheck.
“Hazel will be over in a bit and then we are all going to go out.”
“What do you guys have in mind?”
“We will see what Hazel has planned when she gets here,” I reply.
I’ll miss this. Just hanging out with him, and watching television together. Why did this have to happen to him? How is he going to take it?