Breakfast fun

My husband helps Dad get up, showered, and dressed on weekend mornings. This morning, my husband got Dad to the breakfast table, prepared his coffee (3 spoonfuls of decaf, sugar and fat-free French Vanilla with a spoonful of sweetner--ugh), helped him with his banana, and prompted him to take his morning meds.

I had assumed my husband had also poured milk on Dad's cereal. Bad assumption. When Dad realized that there wasn't any milk on his cereal, he dropped his pills in it and started pouring his coffee over it. Cheerios and way too sweet fake coffee--yum. I caught him before he had poured very much, fished out his pills, and poured the milk. He ate the Cheerios with diluted fake coffee and milk. What does this tell you about the effect Alzheimer's has on taste?

Meatloaf

Did you know that meatloaf is finger food? It is when Dad eats it.

Weight

I've been concerned for some time about Dad's weight. He is less than 5'8" and weighs more than 175 pounds. I've enlisted the aid of the home care attendent to reduce his calorie intake since getting him to exercise is impossible. Of course, anytime we aren't around, Mom sabotages the effort by giving him whatever he wants.

I haven't said anything about weight in front of Dad, but last night he was talking about it.

"I am over weight, but I'm not obese."

"I have lots of blubber."

Comments like these, with no mention of doing anything about it. I wonder where this idea came from.

Why is it

that Dad remembers to put his bib on for breakfast and non-meal times, but doesn't for lunch and dinner? When he comes to the table at random times--2:00 in the morning, 3:00 in the afternoon--he always puts on his bib. His bib stays on the back of his chair. At lunch and dinner, if I'm not fast enough, I have to get him off his bib so I can put it on. He never, ever forgets at breakfast. What's up with that?

Lucid (sort of) Evening

At dinner Thursday (out to eat night), I was talking to Mom about when my husband would be home from his autumn backpacking trip. Dad asked who we were talking about. I explained to him, but I'm not sure he really understood. My husband had been gone a week, and Dad hadn't even mentioned him. He ususally asks where my husband is (that man, or the man who sits there, or the man who helps me) within a day or two of his absence.

However, Dad did ask where he had gone. I said he was backpacking in Montana. Dad remembered some of the geography of Montana and asked if he were backpacking in the mountains or on the plains. Dad then said that he had just driven through Montana without really stopping to see anything. I reminded him that he had been to Glacier National Park in Montana. Dad remembered that it was on the US Canada border.

He then said, "If I remember correctly, I've been in all 50 states." I confirmed that he had. He then said wistfully, "I don't remember much about Hawaii." (remember, he has said that he doesn't know why Hawaii hasn't become a state yet--see July 19) Since Mom and Dad went to Hawaii after I left home, I couldn't tell him anything about his trip. I think he wanted to be reminded. Mom's strokes have gotten her speech areas, so she couldn't tell him either.

Too sad...

Confusion reigns

Dad obviously hasn't been able to keep up with days of the week for some time. Now Mom is getting confused. We've been eating out on Thursdays for several years. This week, when I came home Tuesday evening, Mom had gotten Dad ready to go out to eat in his special "out to eat" clothes--a white shirt without any stains, clean pants, dress socks, and shoes instead of house slippers. I had no sooner gotten in the door when Dad started heading out. I tried to explain to him that it was Tuesday, not Thursday, and we were eating at home. Dad eventually turned around, sat at the table, and wondered why I couldn't produce dinner instantly after coming in from work. I don't think he ever understood about it being the wrong day.

Oh, well.

Voting

I guess all of the news on TV about the upcoming presidential election has impacted Dad. He's been talking about voting.

"I'd sell my vote, if I could."

"I don't know who to sell my vote to, but I would sell it if I could."

I have no idea where this came from.

Bedtime stories

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, will you let me go to sleep?"

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, will you let me go to sleep?"

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, if I close my eyes will you let me go to sleep?"

Followed by:

My husband: "Why did you spit on the floor?"

Answer: "I didn't have anywhere else to spit."

My husband shows him the trashcan next to his chair and tells him that he can spit in there--or swallow it.

A few minutes later: "I don't have to spit on the floor. I can spit on the thing. All my life I've spit on the floor."

My husband: "I've known you over 30 years, and you've never spit on the floor."

Later, we hear Dad practicing spitting in the trashcan. "I don't have to spit on the floor. I can spit in the can."

Over, and over, and over--he's going to be dehydrated by morning.