Categories: uncategorized
Date: 01 December 2004 14:44:17
When Dad went on his first visit to the retirement home, I found myself praying "Lord, let it be the right place for him" and then discovering that my deep response was "Actually I trust you, it's just him I don't trust!" I knew the place was a good one, or as good as these places generally get to be, but I also knew Dad pretty well too and was quite convinced he'd hate it.
He did, of course. He doesn't feel old enough for an old folk's home and he resented being with eight other people all day with nowhere to get away on his own. He doesn't like people organising him (although he's reluctant to make decisions for himself). The people all knew each other and the one member of staff he'd met didn't have time to talk to him. He decided he was not going again.
The next week they picked him up unexpectedly - neither he nor I had realised they had booked him in on a weekly basis rather than him just making a one-off visit. He still hated it. Intensely. Apart from Mrs So-and-so who he'd made friends with. And the good exercises they'd done which really seemed to loosen his muscles a bit. Oh and the lovely dinner with extra pudding and a glass of sherry. And Mrs Thingumybob who he'd sat with in the car on the way home and made friends with. A terrible day. He'd go just once more and that'd be it.
This week he couldn't stop talking about how good a time he'd had. The dinner was lovely and the activity was so interesting that he had really been disappointed when it came to an end. He'd made several friends ("although the men don't talk to me") and was obviously quite a hit with the ladies. He'd thoroughly enjoyed it, and so had decided that I should ring them up and say he didn't want to go any more, and to cancel the respite we'd booked for my holidays next year. I couldn't believe it. I really couldn't believe it. He also instructed me to listen to a radio programme on the radio 4 in the evening to listen to a woman discussing making the choice of whether to tell her father he had alzheimer's disease and how it affected his choices. Depressing. Mind you, one good thing they said was that it is better to make the choices before you need them rather than wait until crisis management forces you into somewhere you don't want to be.
Today I go round at lunchtime and what do you know? He's rung the retirement home himself. And he's arranged to keep going on a Monday, at least until the end of the year. Well, he said, it helps pass the time on these dull days up until Christmas.
:D
I feel guilty in part because he keeps saying I'm putting him into a home, but at least this decision has been his own choice. I played no part, just left him to it. But if he can get some company and care, just once a week, I will be so much happier - and also if he'll keep to the respite weeks booked so that I can have a holiday without feeling obliged to ask my sisters to give up a week of their holidays to look after him.