Make Lewy go to SLEEP quietly.

Though the first night could've been better, it also could've been the second night. OY.
I had called my sister and was on the phone upstairs. I'd only been up there for about 20 minutes and Dad started yelling. I called down to him downstairs and said we were upstairs and that I was on the phone. He walked away.
About 30 minutes later, he started yelling again, "Helllllooooo? What the Fuck? Is anybody HERE, or WHAT?", and as I walked down the stairs, I was getting off the phone with my sister. My Dad was SO mad. He was yelling at me about the fact that we (me, my then-husband and our 5 and 9 year olds) were ALL inconsiderate assholes...WHY weren't any of us downstairs? What were we doing? Was he not welcome there, or WHAT? is what he wanted to know.
With phone in hand, I said that IIIIII had been on the phone, to which he screamed, "For a whole fucking HOUR?". I said, "YES! For a whole hour!" (How dare I! I mean, really! What rudeness!). Then he wanted answers about JUST where the kids and then-husband were...and I explained that the kids were in the bath getting ready for bed. This apparently satisfied him and he stormed off...which really means he waddled off into the wrong room, almost fell over, looked around in confusion, and then stared straight-ahead while he ran his hand along the wall until he found his room. He did this all with such determination though...so I could tell he was really trying to get his pissed-off point across.
After the kids were in bed, we tried watching a movie...downstairs...within feet of Daddy's room. My then-husband wanted to watch UPstairs, but I saw no use in trying that when it wasn't "officially" bedtime and Daddy would probably just start yelling at us from downstairs anyway.
About halfway through watching "The Notebook" (suiting, I know), Daddy started learing out of his room every few minutes. He'd poke his head out, then quickly pull it back in. Then again. Then again. This went on until about 9pm, and by then I was just too tired to finish the movie anyway. We went upstairs and got ready for bed.
By 9:30PM, Daddy was screaming. That damn lightswitch had disappeared again. 5 minutes later, he had to pee and someone had moved the bathroom. Then screams for help with, um, well, he couldn't remember why. Then more screams that he was blind. Then screaming for water. Then screams of having to pee. Again.
By around midnight, I was fed up. Daddy was cursing us repeatedly and would NOT stop yelling. He was yelling about how we should just open a door and let him run away, that we were useless, that we thought he was a fucking idiot, that we were trying to make him look crazy, that we weren't helping him with ANYTHING. In my exhaustion, I am not proud to say, that I yelled back. I yelled that I didn't see anyone else in our family (my sister or brother...) here helping him, that no one in the last 3 years had let him live with them, that neither my brother nor sister were here cleaning up his pee all over the floor, and that if he insisted on continually YELLING, I was going to YELL back. He screamed that it wasn't HIS fault that someone 'kept moving the fucking bathroom and that he had to piss but couldn't'. I reminded him that he had drank a WHOLE lotta water and diet soda since dinner and that maybe it was a good idea to cut back on the liquids so he wouldn't have to pee (or think he had to pee) every 25 minutes. He started coming at me with his fist flying toward me as he was yelling that we all just think he's a fucking idiot asshole.
I yelled that he'd better get in his room RIGHT now, and then I stood there, quietly, with my arms crossed and eyebrow raised until he walked to his bed (I was trying to be firm with him even though I was actually scared that my 225 pound Dad was gonna whoop my butt right then and there).
He got in bed (at 1 am) and didn't wake up until 7am.
With the exception of the night before, that is seriously the longest he's slept or actually laid in a bed for over 2 years.
This morning he was very calm. He did a LOT of wandering, and needed A LOT of help with everything. Again, he didn't remember how to use the shower, and couldn't remember how to sit down. I literally had to stand him in place at the table, scoot the chair beneath him, and bend his body to get him to sit. He was just completely frozen.
It's about 5pm as I type this, and I am a little stressed at what the next few hours will bring. The last two nights have been extremely draining. I feel awful that I yelled at him, and as much as I know that most of this is Lewy coming out, I also know that my Dad has never been a very easy person to reason with. Though I know from experience that some of the things he says are out of frustration, what he says are STILL real words...and when those real words are being screamed at you at 1 am, when you haven't been allowed to go to bed and after not sleeping much the night before either, it's hard to reason with your exhausted self that you should just not respond or at least be a lot calmer than I was about it.
Please GOD, let there be peace and SLEEP tonight.
Amen.