So this is growing up?
This photo of Popz and my sister was taken Jan 18, 2007 in Lawrence, Kans. We “busted” my dad out of his home and drug him around town as we shopped. He was such a good sport that we decided to treat him to some ice cream at Sylas and Maddy’s.Wednesday night, I caught the tail end of NBC Nightly News’ series “Trading Places,” which focuses on caring for aging parents. At the end of the segment, Brian Williams asked viewers to share their personal stories on msnbc.com. (I think the first story in the series is A generation caught between two others.) Of course I thought this was an excellent way to open up NBC and allow viewers to contribute to the series. Luckily, I was on my laptop at the time and was able to quickly Google my way to their website. I tried to submit our story, but I don’t think it actually went through. I took too long editing it and I think the page timed out. Regardless, I decided to post our experience here on my blog…
I am only thirty-three years old…way too young for this.
My father was born in April 1941. This year he will turn sixty-six. He’s young. Too young to be stripped of his right to drive, too young to be cooped up in small studio apartment all day. But he is, and I did it to him.
Late one night last August, my sister and I went to my dad’s apartment because we were worried about him. He had been really down earlier that day and talked about killing himself. When we got to his apartment, there was nothing but some cranapple juice and rotting meat in his fridge. He had removed most of the light bulbs from the lights and he wasn’t running the air conditioning. It was August, in Kansas, and it must have been 108 degrees in there! But it wasn’t until my father pointed his fingers to the sides of his head and described how he planned to kill himself that it really sunk in. Something wasn’t right. It was too much. The last straw. Perhaps a cry for help… but I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt like I had to take action.
Me, Shannon, Popz and Sheri outside Shannon’s house in Lawrence circa 2000.My sister and I were both getting ready to leave Kansas. I was moving to Tennessee, my sister was going back to China to continue her graduate studies. Five years ago our family suffered a tremendous tragedy when my sister Shannon was brutally murdered in Golfito, Costa Rica. It has taken a toll on our family, but my sister and I had to go on with our lives. I don’t think my father ever recognized his anger and sadness over Shannon’s death and I believe his pent-up emotions may have led to his condition.
After more than five grueling hours in the emergency room, trying to get my father admitted to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation, I agreed to have him committed against his will. Because my father was being involuntarily committed to the hospital, hospital security was called to “assist” in escorting him to the ward. My father was anxious, and when the doctor told him she was admitting him he jumped up suddenly and said he couldn’t stay. The security guards grabbed him and threw him up against the wall. They handcuffed him and ended up bruising his right arm pretty bad. They did all of this in front of my sister and I. It was the most horrifying thing I think I’ve ever had to witness. No one should have to commit their parent. No one should have to see them treated like that. The hospital apologized for the unnecessary roughness, but my dad still talks about it today. He believes the reason he is in “jail” is because his blood pressure spiked when “those cops grabbed his arm.”
Sheri, Popz and I in my apartment in West Seattle circa 2000.My father is now living in assisted care. Physically, he’s in top shape. Mentally, he’s not so good. The doctors believe my dad suffered a stroke. From what I understand, and I’m no medical doctor, the stroke did not affect him physically, only mentally. The stroke was casued by something that broke off in his brain and blocked the flow of blood. He has experienced some language comprehension issues – for awhile he was unable to really hold a conversation with someone – he wouldn’t ever stop talking long enough to hear the other person. This was probably because he was unable to fully comprehend what they were saying so he would just keep talking. He has some underlying depression, dementia and the start of alzheimer’s. His blood pressure has been a little high, and his blood sugars were also elevated (that’s a genetic thing). Long story short, the doctors, my uncle, my sister and I agreed that he should not live alone.
It’s so hard to know I did this to him. It’s even harder to wonder if I did the right thing. When he begs and pleads to get his car back and move into an apartment all I can say is “we’ll see dad.” It breaks my heart but I feel like I didn’t have any other choice. I don’t trust him to take care of himself and this way, I know he is eating three square meals a day and taking his medication. He also has a few friends at the home. All the ladies adore him!
I love my dad very much, and as the oldest, I felt I had to do something to help him. I just couldn’t sit around and watch him suffer… he was just so lonely. I know he misses me and my sister. But I’m hoping the assisted living facility will provide him with some socialization and interaction with others. He is such an intelligent person and he is so sweet and so kind. I just didn’t have the tools to help him myself.
There is so much more I could say about our struggle with the choices (more like lack of choices), the cost, the care… I feel a lot of guilt that I should have stayed in Kansas and taken care of him, or at least stayed long enough to really research a good home for him. I just wonder how other children deal with the tough choice of having to commit a parent when they are physically well but mentally unstable. I don’t believe we know enough about the choices that are available to us. It seems like it’s either a nursing home or assisted living, and neither one of those are ideal for my dad’s situation. He needs to get out more and get more exercise, but we just can’t let him live on his own ever again. That’s a tough thing to realize and a really tough thing to try to explain to your dad.
