Page 117 - November 2020
P. 117

Litterateur                                                                             117
                                                                                       November 2020


                                                  ME, DAD AND ALZHEIMER

                  After a great deal of persuasion, I took him to the best neurologist in the town when
                 he  returned.  Medical  check-ups,  analyses,  experiments…where  I  first  encountered
                 Alzheimer’s,  and  it  follows  us  since  then.  My  massive  research  and  countless

                 meetings with many doctors didn’t provide even a little hope. No cure…


                 My mom and I came to the conclusion that our home is the best place for him, even
                 though hospitals are a much better-preferred location in many cases. Since I had to
                 work all day, I was aware of the fact that it would be my mom who would have to put
                 up with all mental and physical suffering that emerged from her solicitude towards
                 her  husband  with  such  condition.  I  lacked  time  with  my  boyfriend,  and  troubles
                 began  in  our  relationship  too.  Although  we  previously  had  a  long-standing
                 relationship  and  a  mutual  understanding,  Alzheimer’s  changed  everything.  He
                 expressed  little  sympathy  and  a  final  declaration  from  her  mom  calling  my  dad
                 “insane” broke everything off. Things were never the same again.


                 My mom can’t have a proper sleep. Neither can I.



                 Then I feel how difficult it is not having a brother, a male family member who can
                 possibly resist all this pain we are enduring and provide a small, but mighty, comfort
                 that would ease our grief. Dad has no idea whether he has a son or not. I noticed his
                 situation  worsened  when,  one  day,  he  couldn’t  recognise  me  at  all.  Despite  me
                 calling  him  “dad”  several  times,  he  didn’t  believe  me  and  looked  at  my  mom  for
                 confirmation.  When  she  nodded,  he  probably  got  convinced.  But  his  look  was
                 possessed by a strange attitude…


                 One day he wanted to go outside. “I will go for a little stroll,” he said. He didn’t want
                 us to accompany him, so he left alone, without knowing that I secretly followed and
                 watched him during the whole walk. He aimlessly wandered around the park awhile,
                 then made his way back. However, it took him quite a long time to find the right way,
                 walking  through  different  streets  and  running  into  in  dead-ends.  In  the  end,  I
                 approached him, held his hand, we returned home.




                 A long time has passed. He now lives in a special treatment facility. It has become a

                 habit for me to see him every day after work. For more than a year now, he has no
                 idea  who  I  am,  as  he  lost  his  ability  to  recognise  me.  Yet  he  is  still  flexible  with
                 people and can talk with anyone, usually about one topic. “Today my wife came to
                 see me. You don’t know her, she is such a caring woman,” he slightly smiles and
                 continues, “She brought my favourite raisin cake, we ate it together with tea. She
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