Emory is taking good care of him, and they have managed to reduce his extreme anxiety and paranoia, but it came at a cost. He is not eating, not sleeping well, and as a result of each of these, he is weak and in a wheelchair. We were told it might be two more weeks before he is released.
When he saw us walk into the day room he started crying. It was all I could do not to turn around and run away. My eyes didn't want to see. My heart didn't want to know. But I also needed to hug him and be near him.
A friend of mine, who lives in another town, is going through the same issues with her dad. He has been battling Alzheimer's for years. She, like me, is an only daughter. Her dad is at home, but hospice was called in this past week. I emailed her late last night trying to make sense of what Alzheimer's and Parkinson's has done to my dad. I cried as I wrote and knew my friend would understand, like no one else can. She has had to sit back and watch as her "daddy" has slowly been taken away from her a piece at a time, over several long grueling years.
I know of no other way to explain what was running thorough my head and heart last night than share the email I wrote to my friend. I took out several lines that might breach my friend's privacy, but I left everything else in as written- mostly...