It’s daylight saving day and I’m betting I get an extra hour to myself this morning. I’m counting down the remaining days by the number of glasses of frozen juice left. Dad’s been drinking this juice smoothie combination for the past twenty-five years or so. I’m now thinking there’s something to it. Dad is quite healthy for 87. Even with his late onset Alzheimer’s, he could live in assisted living, if he had money. But back to the magical juice smoothie.. Every two weeks or so I put all this into a Vitamix: kale, spinach, an apple, orange, blueberries, blackberries, green onion, celery, ginger, honey, orange juice, and green juice. As thick as it is, I freeze it in aliquots of three day portions, but then dilute it with more OJ, green juice, and water for each serving. I’m thinking of making it for myself after Dad leaves.
I took Dad back to the botanical gardens yesterday, but this time for the blooming flowers instead of holiday lights. The tulips were putting on an early show. He loved walking around the garden and said he was inspired to take photos that he plans to blow up and put on his walls. At dinner that night, with true excitement in his voice, he began to explain his plans for his two bedroom condo, or house. I couldn’t ignore this anymore and had to step in.
“Dad, please try to be patient. I know you’re excited to be on your own, and we support you being independent. We want you to be safe and comfortable. We’ll all work together to find the best place. But you have to understand that it’s not possible to live the way you did five years ago.” Before I got to that last sentence, he had a look on his face like a kid who was just told he didn’t make the team. “I need to come down a bit,” he said while waving one hand up and down. I tilted my head to one side and nodded. I was too apprehensive to say more so I reminded him that we have tickets to a show on Sunday. “Oh, I thought that was the 13th.” “We go to the lawyer on the 13th.” “Oh, I was confused.” He says that more and more. He’s actually quite comfortable admitting his confusion. I wish he had more money because a SNF is not the right place for him. He would do better in assisted living or living with either my brother or me. But neither of us can afford to care for him full-time. And it’s clear he needs someone full-time. As we finished dinner, I didn’t want to close our conversation with his confusion. “Remember we lose an hour tonight.”
Right now it’s just past 7am DST here and I can hear Dad walking around upstairs. Well done, Dad.
Epilog 