I wrote this about a year before my father's death, but it chronicles quite a few years previous to that. Part of the reason I took down the blog was because this was the primary thing on my mind most days. It was a journey for us that was hard, but one that I was not ready to make public, especially because my dad did not want people to know how bad it was for him. I respected his privacy.
Now, however, it seems that this road our family took together of watching my dad struggle with the effects of Alzheimer's might be helpful for someone else, so I post this here. I loved my dad. I hated to see him suffer. Now he is in the presence of God, surrounded by the angels and his loved ones. I am quite sure that if this perspective could help another family who is dealing with Alzheimer's, he would want me to post this.
So with tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart, I share with you our journey. If you are watching a loved one go through this, you are not alone.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Silent Thief
What in the world is wrong? He never used to be like this. He was the best preacher and teacher around. He stood strong for God. He knew right from wrong and would not waver. But now things were happening that confused me.
While Dad may not have been the best preacher in America, he was good. His family and his church learned from him. He studied well, and it showed. He had enough humor and stories to keep us intrigued, and enough depth to keep us studying and growing. Then we began to notice that he got off track more easily and his rabbit trails were becoming super highways. He had a hard time staying on task, and his sermons were not as "meaty" as they once were. What was happening?
Dad was also a wise counselor. As a pastor and missionary, Dad kept myriads of other people's secrets. He knew the value of a safe place to talk and receive counsel. When I was growing up, people came and went from his counseling office. We never knew what the problems were, and we knew better than to ask. Their secrets were safe with him. Then one day we noticed that sometimes private things were repeated at inopportune times. Mom had to remind him that the information he just spilled was private. What was wrong? This was not the dad we knew.
For me, that meant that I sought Mom's advice when Dad was not around. Dad could still give sound advice, and I wanted to hear it, but I was no longer sure that my concerns would not be repeated. I could no longer trust him to remember that something was private.
One day I realized that the debater and critical thinking side of him had disappeared as well. Dad comes from a family who expresses their opinions. It was not unusual for political and theological discussions to become noisy affairs at family gatherings. This carried over into our family as we were growing up. We were encouraged to research things thoroughly and to not accept the standard teaching without study and thought. We could not simply state an opinion without being able to back it up. Whether it was our political leanings or Biblical teaching, we learned to defend what we believed after studying various points of view. We also learned to say, "I guess I don't know about that. I need to study some more." But now when a debate would circle around at a family gathering, he withdrew and did not give his opinion.
This was definitely more than simple forgetfulness. A silent thief had entered our midst - Alzheimer's. We grieved. We realized that the dad we knew was slowly disappearing as Alzheimer's continued to nibble away at the remaining parts of his mind and abilities.
Later it stole a handyman. "It's nice to have a man around the house," he used to say when he would take time out to fix my car or help me with a carpentry project. I loved it. No matter what went wrong, he could figure it out and fix it. If he was around, I would not have to call a repair man. Then the day came when things that he used to fix were beyond him. Instead of volunteering to fix something, he would ask my husband to fix it for him.
When Alzheimer's robbed us of the head of the family, it took time for my mom to adjust. He had always been the one to set the tone for the family. He led in family devotions. He made sure that things ran smoothly. Decisions came quickly to him, and he could juggle many responsibilities at the same time. After we left the home, he still set the direction for family gatherings. Now my mom makes most of the decisions. While she asks him for his opinion, he usually just defers to whatever she thinks is best. Reluctantly, she has stepped into the role that he used to have.
It stole an adventurer. My dad grew up in a large family during the depression, fought in World War II, traveled the world and lived in several countries. His adventures were part of his everyday conversations. Now conversations center around he had for breakfast and who called on the phone. The world has closed around him, and his mind is no longer a storehouse of interesting stories and facts he learned in the past.
It jettisoned a storyteller. Familiar stories that he told helped to solidify our place in the family. He loved telling stories of how God answered prayer and kept him safe. He loved repeating familiar stories that helped his children understand his love for them. But now, when we repeat a story that he originally told us, it is not uncommon for him to say, "Really? That happened? That's something."
As the disease progresses, we continue to find other things that are gone. So far, though, Alzheimer's has not stolen his connection with God. He is still a prayer warrior. He struggles now to put into words what he wants to pray for us, but he still prays. He still tells others of Jesus and asks if they are sure of their eternal destiny. It is still obvious that he knows and loves His Lord.
For now, he still knows his family, and I'm grateful for that. There are days when things are fuzzy and he cannot remember the names of his seven children or he will not recognize one of our voices on the phone. His grandchildren and great grandchildren are starting to fade from his memory. Even some of his friends from church whom he still sees every week have faded from his mind.
Alzheimer's saddens me. I am glad that there is no Alzheimer's in heaven. There my dad will be even better than the man I knew, and that makes me very glad.
Now, however, it seems that this road our family took together of watching my dad struggle with the effects of Alzheimer's might be helpful for someone else, so I post this here. I loved my dad. I hated to see him suffer. Now he is in the presence of God, surrounded by the angels and his loved ones. I am quite sure that if this perspective could help another family who is dealing with Alzheimer's, he would want me to post this.
So with tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart, I share with you our journey. If you are watching a loved one go through this, you are not alone.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Silent Thief
What in the world is wrong? He never used to be like this. He was the best preacher and teacher around. He stood strong for God. He knew right from wrong and would not waver. But now things were happening that confused me.
While Dad may not have been the best preacher in America, he was good. His family and his church learned from him. He studied well, and it showed. He had enough humor and stories to keep us intrigued, and enough depth to keep us studying and growing. Then we began to notice that he got off track more easily and his rabbit trails were becoming super highways. He had a hard time staying on task, and his sermons were not as "meaty" as they once were. What was happening?
Dad was also a wise counselor. As a pastor and missionary, Dad kept myriads of other people's secrets. He knew the value of a safe place to talk and receive counsel. When I was growing up, people came and went from his counseling office. We never knew what the problems were, and we knew better than to ask. Their secrets were safe with him. Then one day we noticed that sometimes private things were repeated at inopportune times. Mom had to remind him that the information he just spilled was private. What was wrong? This was not the dad we knew.
For me, that meant that I sought Mom's advice when Dad was not around. Dad could still give sound advice, and I wanted to hear it, but I was no longer sure that my concerns would not be repeated. I could no longer trust him to remember that something was private.
One day I realized that the debater and critical thinking side of him had disappeared as well. Dad comes from a family who expresses their opinions. It was not unusual for political and theological discussions to become noisy affairs at family gatherings. This carried over into our family as we were growing up. We were encouraged to research things thoroughly and to not accept the standard teaching without study and thought. We could not simply state an opinion without being able to back it up. Whether it was our political leanings or Biblical teaching, we learned to defend what we believed after studying various points of view. We also learned to say, "I guess I don't know about that. I need to study some more." But now when a debate would circle around at a family gathering, he withdrew and did not give his opinion.
This was definitely more than simple forgetfulness. A silent thief had entered our midst - Alzheimer's. We grieved. We realized that the dad we knew was slowly disappearing as Alzheimer's continued to nibble away at the remaining parts of his mind and abilities.
Later it stole a handyman. "It's nice to have a man around the house," he used to say when he would take time out to fix my car or help me with a carpentry project. I loved it. No matter what went wrong, he could figure it out and fix it. If he was around, I would not have to call a repair man. Then the day came when things that he used to fix were beyond him. Instead of volunteering to fix something, he would ask my husband to fix it for him.
When Alzheimer's robbed us of the head of the family, it took time for my mom to adjust. He had always been the one to set the tone for the family. He led in family devotions. He made sure that things ran smoothly. Decisions came quickly to him, and he could juggle many responsibilities at the same time. After we left the home, he still set the direction for family gatherings. Now my mom makes most of the decisions. While she asks him for his opinion, he usually just defers to whatever she thinks is best. Reluctantly, she has stepped into the role that he used to have.
It stole an adventurer. My dad grew up in a large family during the depression, fought in World War II, traveled the world and lived in several countries. His adventures were part of his everyday conversations. Now conversations center around he had for breakfast and who called on the phone. The world has closed around him, and his mind is no longer a storehouse of interesting stories and facts he learned in the past.
It jettisoned a storyteller. Familiar stories that he told helped to solidify our place in the family. He loved telling stories of how God answered prayer and kept him safe. He loved repeating familiar stories that helped his children understand his love for them. But now, when we repeat a story that he originally told us, it is not uncommon for him to say, "Really? That happened? That's something."
As the disease progresses, we continue to find other things that are gone. So far, though, Alzheimer's has not stolen his connection with God. He is still a prayer warrior. He struggles now to put into words what he wants to pray for us, but he still prays. He still tells others of Jesus and asks if they are sure of their eternal destiny. It is still obvious that he knows and loves His Lord.
For now, he still knows his family, and I'm grateful for that. There are days when things are fuzzy and he cannot remember the names of his seven children or he will not recognize one of our voices on the phone. His grandchildren and great grandchildren are starting to fade from his memory. Even some of his friends from church whom he still sees every week have faded from his mind.
Alzheimer's saddens me. I am glad that there is no Alzheimer's in heaven. There my dad will be even better than the man I knew, and that makes me very glad.
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