Just two months ago I wrote about my father and Alzheimers. This last few days the situation has changed again ~ and I write about it now only because I am a writer and this is how my peculiar therapy works.
The home where we put my father has been increasingly having trouble with his condition. It isn't just a matter of his disappearing from the "house" where he has been living since November, which has happened a couple of times ~ it is also that he has become increasingly violent and, well, the real truth of it is psychotic.
Starting with Friday, he was moved out of the facility and into the hospital, first into the care ward and from there into the psychiatric ward, where he has been under restraint since Saturday. At this point, he is beyond communication. We are told that he is convinced that this is all a plot to end his life. We are also told that he believes he is living in the year 2046 and that, apparently, some science fiction book he has read at some point in his life is fueling his paranoia.
There are simply no words. The facility where he was living has let it be known that he won't be able to go back there. He will need to be placed into a more severe facility. At the moment, there are none available; this means he will be put on a waiting list. However, he needs to be fully assessed before even the waiting list can be a possibility ~ and whatever the case, he may be forced to spend the rest of his life under restraint, whatever happens.
This whole final act of my father's life ~ a man who was an outstanding professional in his field, who received more than twenty awards of service and recognition, who was once the president of the Canadian National Science Fair, because he enjoyed science and the education of children, is right now screaming in a closed room about . . . nonsense.
So. I'm just working on my equilibrium right now. It is a difficult time.