Reminds me of my grandfather, who had Parkinson's. He was an incredible man. Started out small, selling papers and cleaning toilets to support his family when he was a kid. Had to keep his own educational dreams aside to pursue a path that would support four younger siblings and two aging parents. Became a civil engineer, went through so many ups and downs but always pulled through. My father says he never realized, as a kid, how many times they, as a family, were literally one step away from being homeless, because my grandfather never let them know how tough things were at times.
As Parkinson's set in a few years ago and he started losing his independence, he too stubbornly resisted help. He kept asking about my father's business, even though he eventually began to think my father (his son) was his brother. He would spend hours wondering if the check he'd sent had bounced. (These were all hallucinations, he'd retired over ten years ago, and was financially completely stable by this point.) He would think people had called him to arrange a meeting and weren't showing up. He stopped recognizing me and thought I was a client. But through all this he never asked for help, never told us he was confused. He acted like everything was fine. He was on 20 pills a day at some point, but asked for his 6 teas a day even until he was in the ICU on a saline.
I get it. It hurts, and it's bittersweet, but it's a reminder of how strong these people were even when they had every reason not to be.
As Parkinson's set in a few years ago and he started losing his independence, he too stubbornly resisted help. He kept asking about my father's business, even though he eventually began to think my father (his son) was his brother. He would spend hours wondering if the check he'd sent had bounced. (These were all hallucinations, he'd retired over ten years ago, and was financially completely stable by this point.) He would think people had called him to arrange a meeting and weren't showing up. He stopped recognizing me and thought I was a client. But through all this he never asked for help, never told us he was confused. He acted like everything was fine. He was on 20 pills a day at some point, but asked for his 6 teas a day even until he was in the ICU on a saline.
I get it. It hurts, and it's bittersweet, but it's a reminder of how strong these people were even when they had every reason not to be.
The word bed actually looks like a bed.
