With Dad’s strength virtually gone and his mental acuity fading, my emotions careen between sad acceptance and mad impatience. I feel so sorry for his losses, yet expect him to come to terms with the “new normal” despite his lack of short-term memory. I want to take care of him as long as he needs me. I want to go home to David!

The more frustrated I get at my inability to FIX Dad’s health, the crankier I get with him, which is SO unfair. I know that, but …. When he spills his spoonful of chocolate pudding onto his apron, I cringe about the stain; when he wipes his eyes, mouth, and nose with the same tissue (ugh), I grab it away as he drops it in his food; when he moans about taking his pills or submitting to tooth brushing, I chide him a bit; and when he tries to get up from the sofa or out of the wheelchair I bark at him to wait for me.

It breaks my heart when he tries to get up from the sofa, to go to the toilet, and I have to break the news AGAIN that, nowadays, I must put him in the wheelchair and change him on his bed. One day recently, when I brought him to the table for dinner, he plaintively asked, “What am I going to do when I have to do this myself?” I had to remind him, “Oh, Dad— I won’t leave you before the bitter end. You won’t be alone anymore.” I mean it to sound supportive, of course, but he has always been a very private person and had lived alone for many years.

Eating has been hard and unpleasant for Dad for several years. Swallowing involves the coordination of I-can’t-remember-how-many-muscles, but A LOT! Dad’s Parkinson’s Disease makes coordinating all those muscles very difficult. He coughs, clears his throat, even chokes while he eats. I can’t help him, so I downplay it, trying not to make it worse by reacting.

Lately he has to think of HOW to wield his spoon, as well. He doesn’t spill much of his breakfast, but by the end of lunch, his biggest meal, he spills more than he eats. I have had to feed him a couple of times this past week, and realize I will be feeding him all the time soon. I don’t want to usurp his last independent task, but that time is near.

The emotional roller coaster keeps on careening. Hiya!