Coffee House Writers

Top Menu

Main Menu

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Media
    • Memories
    • Music
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
    • Book Club
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login

logo

Coffee House Writers

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Media
    • Memories
    • Music
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
    • Book Club
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login
  • The North Wind – Part 6

  • Emily Part II

  • Roaring Pageant Murders: Part Three

  • Part 2: They Came For Munchies

  • How to Self-Edit

  • My Freedom, Mon Amor

  • Arvid, Chapter 2

  • The Untouchable and Invisible World

  • The Mystery of Cash Castle: Part 10

  • Like A Naked Branch

  • The radiance on his face

  • Pillows

  • 5 Benefits of Touch

  • CRESCENT MOONS PART 30

  • Stone Walls

  • 2023: Year Of Dreams

  • Same Day Different Universe – Part 2

  • Monrovia

  • Circle of a Day

  • The Mystery of Cash Castle: Part 9

  • Choices

  • The North Wind – Part 5

  • My Ghost, My Beloved

  • On Days Like These

  • Emily

  • Failure Is A Setback

  • Cycle Of Life

  • Rising

  • Ma Millie-2

  • Mr. Keith’s House – Part III

CreativityFamilyRelationshipsMemoriesEnvironmentHomeHealthCultureLifestyleNonfiction
Home›Creativity›She’s Mine: Eight Lessons About Alzheimer’s

She’s Mine: Eight Lessons About Alzheimer’s

By Shelley Estes-Loy
October 5, 2020
801
4
Share:

Once Dad’s memory loss became overwhelming to Mom, my parents moved four blocks from where I lived. Whenever Dad got mad at Mom, he walked to my house. Each time he walked through my screen door brought a smile to my face, and a call from mom, making sure he’d arrived.

One day, he came inside and noticed some boxes sitting in my living room. His eyes twinkled as he examined the coffee table and end tables not yet assembled. Dad liked to tinker.

Lesson 1: Let him/her do it.

“I can do that,” he said.

We put the tables together, but a screw ended up cracking the wood a bit. Frustration showed in his downcast eyes.

Lessons 2: Encourage him/her not to give up and to accept his/her limitations.

“Wow, Dad, thanks. I couldn’t have done this alone. Now, every time we see that dent, we’ll remember our time together.” I giggled. “It’s our secret mark.”

There was his smile. When Dad felt satisfied, his face would turn red, and his lips would curve up into the most adorable grin.

Dad liked one-on-one interactions. Groups made him nervous and anti-social. His memory loss exacerbated this.

Lesson 3: Don’t forget the spouse.

One fall day, my brother’s family came to town. I rounded the corner of Mom and Dad’s house as my brother’s family headed inside. When Dad saw the four of them going up the porch steps, he passed them going down.

Mom hurried to the door. “Don’t let him leave. He’ll get lost!”

“Do you want Mom or Dad?” I asked my brother.

“I’ll handle, Mom,” he said, rushing inside.

Alzheimer's
Gerd Altmann-Pixabay

Lesson 4: Distract, distract, distract.

Dad walked to the garage and entered with a huff. I gave him a minute before following.

“Wow, you’ve been organizing.”

Dad was the epitome of organization. The garage looked perfect like it always did. Nothing had changed.

“Yep,” he said.

He tinkered while we chatted for several minutes. Then I approached him, shivering.

“It’s getting cold, Dad. Have you finished here? We should go in.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, forgetting why he’d come out in the first place.

Lesson 5: Empathize with the pain.

Nothing prepared Mom for the changes confronting them. The man she’d married decades ago had changed. She wanted her husband back and couldn’t accept this new reality.

At a hotel on a trip to visit my older sister, Dad and Mom began arguing.

Dad picked up a magazine. “Last time we were here-”

“We’ve never been here before,” Mom insisted.

They repeated their interaction verbatim about three times. Finally, Dad threw the magazine and stomped out of the room. Mom panicked.

“He’ll run off somewhere,” she cried.

“I’ll find him,” I said.

She sighed, “You might think it’s okay, but I can’t lie to him.”

I nodded. Alzheimer’s demands grace for the victim and the spouse. To her, letting him believe they’d been there before equaled lying. But I saw it differently. Five men in my family are color-blind. Even though an item is brown, to them, it’s blue-which is the color your face will become if you argue with them. They believe what their mind tells them. Don’t we all?

I found Dad wandering the hall on the third floor, his eyes darting from door to door. His room was on the second level.

“Hi, Dad. Are you taking a walk?”

A blank stare crossed his face. “Yeah.”

“Let’s go to your room and visit.”

“Okay,” He bit his lip. His face reddened as he fumbled with his room key.

I started toward the staircase, and he followed.

Alzheimer's
Gerd Altmann-Pixabay

Lesson 6: Demand respect from others.

At this stage, he knew he was forgetting. It made him unhappy, embarrassed, and even angry.

I tried to look at it as a new adventure. I could tell him the same stories over and over because he wouldn’t remember. It became a challenge to help without letting him think I was helping.

The day we took Dad in for an evaluation, Mother and I waited in the conference room with the doctor. The doctor told us he came from Germany. I didn’t see why that mattered. What mattered was the cold and arrogant manner he displayed.

My younger sister and my dad joined us after the assessment. The doctor talked about Dad in the third person. That triggered my sister, and she reprimanded him. He said the testers had asked Dad a series of questions anyone could answer, and he didn’t do well. Some of the questions included: What is today’s date? What is your name? Who is the president right now? Who was the first president?

When they got to that last question, I interrupted. “I don’t think he ever knew that.”

My younger sister nodded her agreement.

“Are you saying he’s stupid?” the doctor asked.

My eyebrows flitted up. “Uh, no. I’m saying he never knew that answer.”

Lesson 7: Realize how much his/her life has changed.

I was trembling when I got home. Banging the keys as hard as I could, I typed a text to my older siblings, telling them what had happened.

“Of course, he knew the presidents. He helped us with our homework all the time. He was good with English, math, and history,” my older siblings replied.

Dumbfounded, my younger sister and I realized that their dad wasn’t the Dad we knew. Our dad couldn’t spell or write and didn’t remember history. There were twelve years between my oldest and youngest siblings. The disease had progressed a lot in those years.

Lesson 8: Remember, he/she is still the same person.

When Mom couldn’t deal with Dad’s Alzheimer’s anymore, she asked me to go with them to the hospital.

At the hospital, Mom filled out paperwork while the nurse sat down with Dad.

The nurse pointed at me. “So, who is this?”

Dad’s eyes met mine, and he flashed that adorable grin. “She’s—she’s my-” His face showed his love for me.

He was an amazing father.

“You don’t remember who she is?” the nurse asked in a condescending tone.

I wanted to slap her.

“She’s my-” His face fell. “Her name-” His eyes dropped to the floor.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” I patted his hand, and he placed his over mine.

“Who is she?” the nurse demanded.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he peered into mine. “She’s-” He sighed, “She’s mine.”

Those two words are my most precious memory. With the last complete sentence that he ever spoke, he claimed me as his own, and I will never forget.

TagsdistractmemoryfamilydementiasupportspouseparentslessonsAlzheimer's
Previous Article

Connecticut Melon Heads

Next Article

Guidance

0
Shares
  • 0
  • +
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0

Shelley Estes-Loy

Shelley Estes-Loy lives on a farm in rural Iowa with her husband, Jerry. She is the mother of six grown children. She obtained her BSc in Business Administration from Mt. Mercy University and has worked as a marketing director, editor, writer, and teacher. Shelley has written a language arts curriculum and a piano theory curriculum. She won a Medallion Award at the NCMPR District level for a single print ad, a Paragon Award, at the NCMPR National Level for a postcard, Admissions & Marketing Report Award for a single print ad, Eleventh Annual Admissions & Advertising Awards for a newspaper ad, Silver Medallion Award @ National Council of Marketing and Public Relations for a print ad, Editor’s Choice Award at the National Library of Poetry for a poem, and Billboard’s Certificate of Achievement for two songs. She is currently working on her first novel.

Related articles More from author

  • CreativityFamilyPoetryLifestyle

    Dear Santa

    December 2, 2019
    By Keely Messino
  • bookshelf; library
    FictionMemoriesCultureHomeMediaCreativityTechnologyEnvironmentFamilyRelationshipsEntertainment

    The Seven – Chapter 2

    August 19, 2019
    By Cait Marie
  • Sky
    PoetryMemoriesEntertainmentCreativityFamilyRelationships

    Thinking Of You

    October 28, 2019
    By Destiny Constantin
  • The Jazzy Chronicles
    CreativityFamilyRelationshipsFictionHomeEntertainment

    The Jazzy Chronicles: Bat Cat

    November 18, 2019
    By Tish MacWebber
  • CultureMediaFamilyRelationshipsMemories

    Getting Social On Social Media

    January 29, 2018
    By Cait Marie
  • Woman Rising Hand
    FictionMemoriesHealthHomeCreativityFamilyRelationships

    The Devil He Became… The Ending

    December 3, 2018
    By Sylvia Stein

4 comments

  1. Gail Kornowski 5 October, 2020 at 16:00 Reply

    That is a beautiful story.

    • Shelley Estes-Loy 6 October, 2020 at 15:55 Reply

      Thank you, Gail.

  2. Amy Madlom 6 October, 2020 at 09:24 Reply

    I had forgotten a lot of that (I am the “younger sister”) and it was nice to read this. The last sentences I had with dad were equally precious to me. Karyn and I were visiting dad in the nursing home Alzheimer’s wing, and he and I stood in the dining room, leaning against the counter. His ability to string coherent words together was getting harder and harder. He was watching Karyn who was across the room (I forget what she was doing), and he said something like “is she your wife?” or “did you get married” and I grinned at him, proudly saying YES. A minute or so passed and he nodded. Then he said, “That’s good.” And that meant the world to me. Who knows if he actually understood – regardless, I hold it dear.

    • Shelley Estes-Loy 6 October, 2020 at 15:58 Reply

      I’m glad you have that memory! Thanks, sis.

Leave a reply Cancel reply

You may be interested

  • Starlight
    CreativityRelationshipsPoetry

    Starlight’s Slow Dance

  • https://pixabay.com/photos/scam-hacker-security-virus-fraud-4126798/
    EntertainmentCreativityHealthFamilyRelationshipsFiction

    Captured: Part Five

  • Turkey stuffing
    LifestyleHealthCultureFamilyFood

    Thanksgiving Recipes

Timeline

  • January 23, 2023

    The North Wind – Part 6

  • January 23, 2023

    Emily Part II

  • January 23, 2023

    Roaring Pageant Murders: Part Three

  • January 23, 2023

    Part 2: They Came For Munchies

  • January 23, 2023

    How to Self-Edit

Latest Comments

  • COFFEE HOUSE WRITERS/POEM, By IVOR STEVEN – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    January 11, 2023
    […]   MORE FROM AUTHOR […]

    On Days Like These

  • Derrick Knight
    on
    January 10, 2023
    A beautiful tribute

    On Days Like These

  • On Days Like These, is up at Coffee House Writers Magerzine – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    January 9, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a ...

    On Days Like These

  • LC Ahl
    on
    January 3, 2023
    I am loving this story! Can’t wait for more

    Mr. Keith’s House – Part III

  • Jill Yodere
    on
    January 2, 2023
    Excellent! A great read!

    A Willing Way

Find us on Facebook

About us

  • coffeehousewriters3@gmail.com

Follow us

© Copyright 2018-2022 Coffee House Writers. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s administrator and owner is strictly prohibited.