Backwards
Sometimes I consider the backwards nature of Alzheimer's. It's especially evident when simultaneously witnessing a baby develop forwards. It was a month ago to the day that I visited Dad in Potomac Homes. He drew on a napkin. I took pictures of him. He whispered sweet dirty things in Tiffany's ear.
Yesterday, I arrived at the medical unit in Englewood Hospital around noon. He was snoozing and hiccuping, at a rate of probably 30 hiccups per minute. The aide said she had just finished feeding him. His appetite was good, especially considering the ravenous two bowls of cereal he had had for breakfast. She fed him some meat and potatoes, but he didn't want all the potatoes and apparently was somewhat vocal in that. I tried waking him up. I shook his hand. I tapped his chest. I ran my fingers through his gray hair, which for the first time in my life that I could remember wasn't brushed to the side. Even sloppily. His forehead was a bit clammy. I called "Dad", "Pop", "Buddy", "John", "JY". No response. He wouldn't respond. The aide said something like talk to him, he'll hear what you're saying. But I mean... I don't talk to him. I do, but it's private. And even then, I need him on the other end to respond. I need a little quack quack here, even though it didn't occur to me to sing old mcdonald to him during the moment.
A doctor came in and asked a bunch of questions that I didn't have answers for. I felt like asking him, aren't you the one who's supposed to tell me the answers to the questions you are asking? That seemed backwards. Then he asked if I could sign a consent form as power of attorney. And I could. I guess that was one thing we had taken care of in years gone by. How fortunate. My dad declined and apparently insisted on not getting long term care insurance, but I was able to sign a document to let him get an endoscopy to find the root cause to those hiccups.
After I signed the consent, I returned to his room. I tried a few more times to awaken him. At one point, I thought I was in business as he opened his eyes. They opened. Looked blankly at me for a second, and definitely not longer, and then closed.
I don't know. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.