Chili's
I made a commitment to visit my dad once a weekend at Potomac Homes. The first weekend of the year I had to do a lot of work to get myself caught up and my mom was going to see dad on Sunday, the day I had decided to go. So I revisited my choice of commitment. The commitment is a guideline to go see him. Period. Whenever. However. By not going on the weekend doesn't mean I have broken the spirit of the commitment. As long as I go to see him of course. That is the fundamental commitment. With regularity. I chose to go on Tuesday. And stuck with it.
Tiffany and I left Manhattan at 5:20 PM. We arrived at Potomac shortly past 6:30. We entered the home to find the residents seated in the living room. There was the guy next to the TV, not picking his nose, but with his finger near it. There were the quiet ladies seated on the couch, gazing in the direction of the TV and then at Tiff and me. I adjusted myself and put on a smile, realizing that I wasn't smiling not because I was in a nursing home but because generally speaking my moment-to-moment temperment is choleric and left unmonitored dominated by neuroticism. So I became happy to see my dad.
Dad shuffled over. Slowly. A very noticeable change since a month ago when we dropped him off and since my Christmas day visit. Maybe it was a bad day. Maybe it's how he walks now. I don't know. It's definitely a shift in a pattern that I'm familiar with -> high energy. His energy was low. And if this is the start of a trend, then I am saddened and accusatory (that it's his being in the nursing home causing it). He wasn't shaven. His sweater was tucked in, which is normal lately. His belt was on normally, a change from my mom's adjustment to put it on backwards to prevent him peeing on the floor.
Dad's eyes lit up when he saw Tiff. He hugged her and said "Hey Good-looking". He hugged me. I can't say I felt he was as excited to see me as Tiff, which may be customary. Perhaps I was sensitive to feeling guilty, but I felt a grudge on some basic level. Sort of similarly to how a mother knows what her baby's feeling. You just know it.
As we walked out the front door, he asked "We're coming back here right?" Wasn't very sure how to interpret that. Did he want to go back or not? Seemed like he was OK with coming back.
We walked him out to the car. Again, slowly. We drove to Chili's and attempted to break the ice, which was somewhat more difficult than normal. He asked how I was handling things or something like that. I wanted to see what he would discuss about the home. If anything. I asked how the ladies were treating him. He said "It's not the same." WHAT ISN'T THE SAME?? WHAT?? That it's not my mom? That's what I think it was. Then he went on to say something about when he was younger or definitely sometime prior to that moment, he was the main guy when it came to the ladies. So I don't know. But whatever it was, it was definitely downtrodden and low self-esteem and/or disappointment.
Whatever else was discussed was a little forced and I wanted to get him opened up, find that energy and expression I'm used to getting out of him. So I went with the trusted method: singing.
"Hey, you know any good songs?"
"Donald McDonald?"
OK, know it. "Old McDonald had a farm. Eee-eye-eee-eye-o.... On the farm... Duck."
His quacks were off. His quacks were quiet. The next verse when I stuck in a dog, he didn't quack instead of bark. He didn't do any audible animal sound. The next verse when I stopped, so did he. Usually he'll keep going, at least a few words.
Then I came in with "Chandaloon, metza-mal." To which he joined and continued "Metza-mala italiana.... hey hey hey appec-italiana".
We entered the parking lot. Tiff helped him out the back while I readjusted my crooked parking job. Tiff said he said "Hey Good-looking. Where's Richie?" So at least he still knows my name and the association of Tiffany and me. He asked how he knew her. She said she's his daughter-in-law. Excitedly he asked her "Really? How'd that happen?"
We walked in Chili's and were seated. He asked for his regular: Diet Pepsi NO ICE. And definitely no water. Do NOT bring the water. I mean, who drinks "that crap"?
I set up the video camera and began rolling. He opened up a bit, showed a bit of that energy I'm accustomed to. He asked me if I was having fun. I said yeah, are you having fun? He said "No." That really worried me. Why did he say no? This was shortly after he commented that he guessed Chili's was nice enough or not too bad a place. I said yeah it is nice. But it's really nice to see you. He said, it is not nice. What wasn't nice? What?? I'm almost positive it wasn't that we were with him. Or that he wasn't in the home. I suspect, without any proof to offer, that it was his being in the home. That he was someplace he knew he didn't want to be. And that on some level, he was holding me accountable for that.
We ordered an appetizer sampler of boneless buffalo wings, chicken crispers, mozzarella sticks, and nachos. He really enjoyed the chicken crispers and eating the blue cheese dressing off his finger off the plate. He didn't seem to care for the nachos. He definitely didn't care for the celery sticks. He actually drank water. I was stunned that he even did. I think he was looking for something to squash the heat of the jalapenos. But even still. He drank that crap. Amazing. He commented that it was bland, at least.
One bright note was that I took him to the bathroom after dinner and the routine was more relaxed than it has been in the past. He didn't exhibit any anxiety or depression, which I had grown accustomed to handling when he was living with my mom.
We got back in the car. We drove back to Potomac Homes. We walked him to his room. He didn't seem to recognize the familiarity of it, but we did just take him out for the first time since he had been there so there was definitely a location adjustment going on.
He didn't want to put his pajama pants on. At least without removing his slacks. Which isn't a change at least from recently. He didn't want us to go. He was worried we wouldn't be there. We told him we were going to bed too and that we'd see him in the morning. He got very upset when we shut the light. I turned it back on and said "Buddy, I love you. Don't worry. I'm not leaving you." I gave him a hug. He gave me sweet little kisses on my neck and cheek, sort of similar to the ones I give Tiffany. He said I was heavy. I got up. Told him I loved him and we'd see him in the morning.
I hate lying. I hate lying to him. But what is the right thing to say? What is the right thing to do? It breaks my heart knowing I'm lying to him. But I will see him soon. I'm not disappearing.
The whole thing is painful. I started thinking about his eulogy since I was feeling like this is the start of a rapid decline. And yeah, the times I've had were great. I sent a collection of moments, about 60 minutes in length, to Curtis G to review. When I watched it on Sunday, I laughed. I enjoyed it. Now it's like... I wish I had some of those moments again. Despite anyone who may be familiar with my dad even just a year ago and certainly a handful of years ago, would see those as sad. For me, they're the best I've ever had. And it's slipping. Fortunately, I believe I am in a mindset that I am enjoying every moment with him, even the worst of times. And I don't know... There's something depressing about that. And then I realized at his passing, I'll remember the man with Alzheimer's. For better or for worse. This is the lasting impression he will have on my life.
Is that encouraging or is it discouraging? I suppose it's a matter of choice.