How to Admit Your Dad into a Dementia Ward and Not Fall Apart..

Me and Dad. 1965

Today was not as difficult as I thought it might be, but still was certainly no cakewalk. Put it this way: if I had to make a list of things I’d most like to do, admitting my dad into the Veterans’ Administration Hospital’s Dementia ward would be very low on the list..

I arrived at mom and dad’s house around 9:30 a.m. I parked my car and then snuck dad’s packed suitcase into the trunk of mom’s car. That suitcase contained all of dad’s clothing that I had prepared the night before. I spent an hour just writing dad’s name carefully into every article of clothing. That, in itself, made the entire experience a little surreal, like I was preparing a sixty-nine year old man for summer camp.  Dad appeared withdrawn when he came out of the house, and he didn’t say anything. He got into the car with little prompting. I helped him with his seat belt. He didn’t respond much to mom’s attempts to draw him out. I drove, mom sat in the backseat, and dad sat in the passenger seat. At one point I reached over to take dad’s hand and he very firmly removed my hand from his and placed it forcefully back in my own lap.  It startled me and it hurt my feelings. It was difficult keeping my eyes on the road while it blurred with sudden unshed tears.  I maintained control by reminding myself that dad is not who he used to be and that my daddy, wherever he is behind those confused lost eyes, is still there and still loves me.

When we entered the V.A Center dad followed along where we led, but when mom held his hand he refused to grasp her hand back. He sat through the nurse’s questions, seemed curious about his room, was pleased to see photos of himself in the shadow box next to his bed (I had given the photos to the nurse when we arrived and she very quickly arranged them while we were in the interview session with the other nurse), and when Mom and I left I don’t think he even noticed much. Mom and I then went to J.C Penney’s and bought him a light blue comforter to go on his bed. Anything to make the place homier.  We went back to the hospital and I took the comforter in and gave it to a nurse, and mom put some money on dad’s account so he can get haircuts, go out on outings, etc. Mom phoned dad tonight and he asked where she was. She told him she was at home. He has a difficult time speaking, so the conversation didn’t last long. Mom said he sounded pretty good. .

Mom came over and we took a long walk this evening. I think she’ll sleep tonight knowing that dad is being taken care of. I’ll sleep better knowing that she is sleeping.

I want to cry. I need to cry, but I can't. I am so scared if I start crying I will never stop. So, stoic I will be.

Things I did today to get ready for Abu Dhabi: No one damn thing.