Let me sleep pleeeeeeeeeaase.

At a few minutes before 10pm last night, the facility called. I didn't answer it initially because I was SLEEPING and let it go to voicemail...then I got up I listened to it in case it was actually "something" this time.
The message didn't sound good. The girl left no real information...she just said that she needed me to call her back...she sounded, well, like she had bad news.
NO, no, no...!
So I called right back.
Drum roll....
She says that she was calling to let me know that EARLIER they had noticed a bruise on my Dad's abdomen...EARLIER...and that he was sleeping right now.
I swallowed the words I really wanted to say and asked why they didn't call me EARLIER or tomorrow MORNING, like, when we would be, like, I dunno........AWAKE????
Then she apologized and hung up. I took the phone off the hook again.
So...yet another call to the head Nurse, Matt, tomorrow morning, I guess?
After the call, of course I was wide awake. I started worrying about things concerning the conservatorship...like WHO is going to trim his fingernails and toenails when he's a ward of the state...will anyone do that? Will anyone cut his hair? Shave him? I was making myself crazy thinking that no one will take care of his needs.
Not that he thinks WE were taking care of him. Everytime we didn't get to him within seconds, he'd yell that he'd been waiting an hour...an HOUR...that is exactly what his mother always said too. No matter how quick you got to Nany calls, she would cuss and yell that she'd been waiting an HOUR. Always an hour.
I dunno. I need to stop thinking about all of this. I am making myself insane with worry.
I dunno, Daddy, I hope that you will eventually go to a better place so you will have an understanding of what really went on.
It kills me that there's the possibility that he thinks we didn't try our best to take care of him.
Sigh....

Hmm...but oh, there's more...

At around 11am I got a phone call from the facility. Seems that Daddy is being so disruptive they had to put him in one of those weird new "gery" (sp? like geriatric?) chairs. Apparently Daddy went ballistic again and was in and out of people's rooms...eventually into the room of a woman, which they of course frown upon for good reason...and he ended up throwing a TV table over...thus also throwing her TV on the floor...and it, of course, broke.
I'm sure I'll be getting a nice fat bill for that...wonder if they're gonna splurge and buy an even bigger TV now?
The Nurse said that my Dad is actually sort of "okay" with being in this chair...it's this weirdo contraption made of what looks like PVC pipe, fashioned into this box-frame of sorts...and they can use it as a seat or walker...but it limits the space they can fit into (so they can't be as invasive in other people's space)...and if they become out of hand, it has wheels so the Nurse's can gain control much more quickly.
I tell ya...something new and interesting everyday.

First moment of peace.

The facility let my Dad call me yesterday. It was horrible. He cried the whole time and sounded awful. I tried to be calm and reasonable and calm him down, but I felt like I needed to calm myself as well. It was so sad. He was saying he was lost and needed someone to find him...there is no reasoning with that, especially when he was crying and sounding so pitiful. I ended up talking to a Nurse afterward to ask what they were giving him...they said he'd actually slept the whole night, but he was very emotional all day. They are giving him Risperdal (an anti-seizure drug that doctors found helps with bi-polar) and Restirol for sleep. I don't know a lot about the Restirol, but I don't like that they have given him Risperdal...that stuff is like a chemical lobotomy. I don't know, I hate this. My first instinct is to jump in again...but I know I can't do that.
After that phone call...I had some downtime for the first time in nearly forever. I ran a few non-rushed errands, and then just stayed home...sat around, and there were NO calls last night. I didn't even have the phone off the hook...I actually checked the phone this morning to make sure there was a dial tone...how pathetic is that?
Anyway, this small taste of sleep has me more tired than rested. After I go grocery shopping, I plan on doing a whole lot of nothing today...I have my weirdo whole-body, head-to-toe bone pain today from my so-called fibromyalgia or whatever it is. Must vegetate.

Only IIIIIII get an Opinion on this!

Okay, so Wednesday morning came...time for us to take Daddy to THE only place that would even consider letting him in their facility.
I told Daddy that we were going to a place that would be able to take better care of him, etc., etc., and he was in total agreement. I KNEW his calm response would be temporary.
By the time we got there, he was freaking out. He started crying and begging us to promise him that we would be coming back for him. He told the Nurse that "the only thing they (we) have a problem with is that I can't sleep but I can't help it, but there's NOTHING wrong with me".
Sigh. Poor Daddy. Damn Lewy.
I had to leave the room several times to not start crying.
He was getting pretty agitated and wanted to go to lunch and to get some gum...he says gum calms him down. We'd confiscated his gum at our house after he kept chewing it while laying down (and falling asleep with it in his mouth) and then he'd spit it on the carpet. We still haven't been able to get all the gum cut out.
So we went to lunch. He wanted a burger and pineapple coconut shake...which means Dairy Queen. He was agitated the whole time. When he was done eating, he wanted to go wash his hands and we offered him some napkins first to get the majority of the mess off before we took him to the sink, but he started yelling that we "wouldn't even take him to the bathroom because we think he's going to try to run off".
Sheeeesh. As if he could really get away even if he wanted to. Even at his highest speeds, his shuffle is easy to catch. We ignored his responses and focused on distracting the kids from his bad behavior. I think my kids are going to need counseling.
Anyway, so hubby gets Daddy all washed up and then I ran into Walmart across the street and got him several packs of gum, and we took him back, got him settled into his new room, and went home.
The place had assured me that they understood his condition completely, not to worry, etc., and I looked forward to some sleep that night. I was out like a light early, dead asleep, when...
Uh, no.
At about 9:50-something, the facility calls. Just seeing the number on the caller ID stressed me out. They were calling because I had written down that Daddy was born in 1934 and he was arguing with them that he was born in 1939.
They were calling to settle an argument with a Dementia resident about their birthday?
I was dumbfounded.
I called the Admin. the next day and told them what happened and they were equally as shocked and assured me that would never happen again.
Uh, yeah...so the second night at 8 pm, I get another call.
This time it's the Nurse that doesn't speak very good english and she is IRATE. Daddy was arguing with them about pretty much everything and being combative...swinging at them. He was absolutely confused as to where he was, etc. I could hear him yelling in the background. But the Nurse was yelling just as loud and telling me I needed to come there RIGHT THEN to either give him pills to calm him down or take him home with me because he was being kicked out.
Needless to say I was a little upset. Of the almost 40 places I called, this place was the only one that would take him...and they were kicking him out on the second day?
REALLY long story short, about 5 calls with the irate Nurse later and at around midnight, it was decided that Daddy was staying, at least for that night. The psych-ward behavioral center that she was trying to get him into for evaluation said they wouldn't take him because the 'policy' is that a facility must have the resident for at least a week before shipping them off (yes! finally someone ELSE is being turned down!)...and because Daddy has no insurance.
I called my brother to tell him what was happening and to ask him if he's going to have a problem with Daddy being institutionalized...because I am NOT about to go on another hunt for facilities. I have spent the last 3+ years of my life taking care of my Dad and I am beyond exhausted. I am ready now for the State to have conservatorship. I can not and will not make these decisions anymore...and I can just assume that brother doesn't want this responsibility either. He doesn't. Who really does? This is a nightmare.
I took the phone off the hook. But I did not sleep that night.
The next morning I was up early. I finally put the phone back on the hook at 6:54 AM. 3 minutes later the facility called me.
This Nurse tells me she's "been trying to get a hold of Roy's daughter..." because Daddy had fallen during the fiasco last night and scraped both knees.
They were trying to call me for hours, PRIOR to 6 am, to tell me this.
This Nurse also tells me that she doesn't think their place is the "right" place for my Dad.
I ignore her comment and say nothing because I was trying to get dressed...
I was getting dressed and ready...finally attempting to get out of my house with my daughter to visit a friend who lives out of town a couple of hours south. Some resemblance of a life? What normal people do? Wow!!!!!! Could it really be?
Nope.
What I really ended up doing was fielding call after call on my cell phone about what's going to happen to my Dad. I got a message from my brother that he had indeed made a call to someone at the facility...someone named Matt...and the message really ANNOYED me because he said Matt said they'd "handled everything" the previous night. Uh, NO, they DID NOT "handle it", or I wouldn't have had to calm the NURSE down on the 5 calls I spoke with her. And they wouldn't have been threatening to kick Daddy out or telling me that IIII needed to come there and calm him down, give him pills, or take him home. AND they wouldn't have been trying to call me ALL NIGHT to tell me about scraped knees...if they were "handling things".
I talked to the guy Matt (who ended up being the head of Nurse's) that my brother talked to and told him about the message he left me in regard to THEIR conversation. Then I filled him in about what REALLY happened the night before...because apparently none of his Nurse's told him what they told ME, of course. They hadn't told him that they said my Dad was being kicked out. They didn't tell him that they were YELLING at me. They didn't tell him that they told ME to drive 40 minutes to give my Dad meds or take him HOME.
After all was said and done, Matt profusely apologized and assured me that it wouldn't happen again...that there would be a meeting to discuss the fact that it is NORMAL for residents to 'flip out' and take some time to adjust to new surroundings...AND for them to get on a medication that will allow them to be calm. He said that he was embarrassed that his Nurse's had done what they did, because the are all fully trained and capable enough to have taken care of the problem without calling me. He said they were clearly just looking for what was easy for THEM (thank you!). He also said that the irate Nurse that had called me wouldn't be calling me again...he said that he'd noticed she wasn't the best at handling incidents such as the one with my Dad.
I felt better. But to be honest...even though this head of Nurse's was definitely intelligent and calm and seemed to have all the right answers and knowledge to take care of my Dad...unfortunately he can't be everywhere at all times. He was apparently on duty when the fiasco happened and he had no idea because no one came to him. Clearly not all the Nurses are like him. I wish.
So, I have some things to decide. I can't just hope that this Matt is going to be able to change things. He said he'd JUST come to this facility two weeks ago, so he's new and trying really hard to make it better. But I can't count on that. I know from experience that the very BEST of intentions doesn't necessarily mean success...or that they will stop calling me every night.
And I can't be threatened with my Dad being kicked out anymore, it's too traumatic. I am now accepting the fact that I cannot do this. I won't. I can't disrupt my kids lives anymore. I can't disrupt MY life anymore. I can't make all my Dad's decisions and be running around scatter-brained, too tired to even know what I'm doing if it's not on a written LIST, and not spending time with my own family because my Dad is having yet another crisis. My body is tired, sick and weak.
And so the next phone call I made was to my Dad's VA doctor who had FINALLY called me back that afternoon (after 3 weeks of no response). She said she was on vacation and apologized...but I know for a fact that she's been back for two weeks because her nurse told me so. But whatever, it's not like confronting her about that would get me anywhere.
She wants to send my Dad to the VA Geropsychiatric facility (did I spell that right?). The same one that was a nightmare...the one that made him a ward of the state and told me to leave him, to forget about him. I discussed conservatorship with her and she was in full agreement that that might be the wisest decision...to have someone else, not me, be appointed "the responsible party" for my Dad. She has seen ME for pretty much every visit she's had with my Dad. She knows that I am the one in the driver's seat and that I have not been well and that I have two small children to consider. She explained the whole conservatorship process to me, and I am going to think long and hard about it...although I don't think there's anything to think about really. Someone else (not in our family) would be appointed to make all my Dad's decisions. THEY would find an appropriate facility...and would probably have a lot more pull to get him in to a suitable place than I would...unlike my time-wasting calls-a-plenty to places that shut me down cold. We would still be able to visit and give input...but the conservator would make any final decisions...and would be the one to get the harrassing phone calls.
If thsi happened, I would possibly be able to get rested, spend time with my kids for once, actually see a friend or two more than once every 6 months, get well, and stop TWITCHING.
Sounds pretty good to me.
So I have some things to think about...and NO ONE gets to have an opinion BUT ME.
I may ask for someone's input, because that's how I am. I want family/Doctors to be involved despite the fact that I know they won't actually HELP...but I want the input so that I can weigh the pros and cons and TRICK MYSELF into thinking I'm really not making all the decisions on my own, which is the reality. So, I can ask for all the opinions I want, but in the end...no one has the right to get mad at the fact that I may not even consider your opinion because IIIII have been the one here, living this. I've been knee-deep in phone calls, paperwork, legal fees and meetings, banking hell, people treating me like a ditzy idiot because I "look too young" to be dealing with this, touring facility after facility, Depends undergarments, doing paperwork to move my Dad IN to facility after facility, doing paperwork to move my Dad OUT of facility after facility, asshole Doctors, asshole bankers, asshole Social workers, nutball psychiatrists....seriously...I could do a whole blog about all the rude, inconsiderate people along this path...but I get the final say on what happens next.
No backseat driver's allowed, so run along.

My last resort came through.

After hours of faxing and phone calls, Palm Haven Manteca said they could take him. My god, the relief. And, for once, I actually do not feel bad that I am relieved. My kids are so terrified of Grandpa at this point that they run out of the room when he comes near.
And he has been SO awful today. Literally every 5 minutes for hours he was yelling that he needed help.
Everytime we move him it's at least a 15 minute process because he moves a half inch at a time and he can't turn or bend...we do all the work. So...we'll do all of this and get him in the chair he asked to be in...then 5 minutes passes and he pops right up with complete ease and screams for help into bed again. Another 15 minutes to get him in bed and then 5 minutes later he pops right up and screams to go to his chair. And everytime he screams for us, he says horrible things about how he's been "waiting a Fucking hour for us and how we're monsters and mutherfuckers and how the lord will make us pay for what we've done to him".
Holy CRAP.
I am SO not good with that kind of behavior.
I should be the one that can rationalize that this is a disease, right? That it's the disease making him say these things? The thing is that his mother was exactly like this...but not just with the dementia...that was her personality. And my Dad was like this as a drunk. He really wasn't a very nice person, to be truthful...and this just seems like his old personality coming out again...through Lewy.
I hear about people who were kind, quiet people, preachers even...who, once struck with Alzheimer's or another dementia, become a monster. I have to admit that I think there is some part of that "monster" that was really inside of them all along though. I just don't see how someone who never cussed their whole life would suddenly utilize words they shunned...unless it was a quiet anger creeping in them the whole time.
So...after taking a half hour of being cussed out, I'd remind Daddy about how IIIII am the only one that's helping him...I asked him if he remembered anyone else since my Mom died coming to help with anything. He quieted down.
Then he fell out of bed trying to pop up again and hubby helped him back up...and then he cursed hubby out again.
When hubby left the room, Daddy started banging on the wall and doing this horrible shrieking-laugh...like the Joker in Batman...and started squealing in this truly evil voice...he said the second hubby went to bed tonight, that he was going to make sure he woke his ass up right away...and he laughed and laughed and said that he'd show US who's boss and in control.
Lewy is scary, scary, scary.

And the 'accidents'...hoo-boy. Today was another doozy huge one. We are seriously going to have to replace our flooring downstairs. It stinks. He had more or less marked his territory LAST time he lived here...and I got the carpets cleaned and it turned out halfway okay. There are certain areas that have still have a "scent"...but after this time around...dear god...no use in trying to professionally clean it again. Our carpet cleaner needs to retire. There have been so many different kinds of spills, stains and accidents...ick. Bewteen the "accidents", Daddy spitting and smashing gum into the floor numerous times, and all the times he SPIT god-awful things on the floor...I can't even fully think about it or I would probably never take my shoes off. I just hope that I got the carpet clean enough so it isn't posing a health hazard.
Blech.

So, anyway, in closing...

One more night with no sleep.
One more night with no sleep.
One more night with no sleep.

No Facilities for Old Men.

I didn't even get a chance to post yesterday, that's how crazy it's been.
Daddy is the typical Jekyll and Hyde now. Going from completely insane and angry one second, to crying and apologetic the next. I'm not good with that, so I've been doing a lot of walking away from the situation...giving myself a time-out before I react badly. Especially when he starts these conversations with, say, the floor, and he's arguing with it, cursing it, and then I stupidly ask him if he needs something. Bad move. He acts like a mean drunk. He was a mean drunk back in the day. I remember it well. It's as if he's somehow regressed into a drunken stupor without the alcohol.
WELL, the place I was counting on...the nursing facility that caters to people with psych-oriented issues denied us. They said they thought they already had too high of a ratio of people like my Dad. Oh, and that they already filled the bed anyway. 'Nuff said. No one wants to take my Dad. I almost cried on the phone when they told me this. Honestly, I have been turned down by about 35 nursing homes since Friday.
One place did refer me to a locked nursing home in Manteca, which is about 30-40 minutes from here. Within minutes of being turned down for the other place, I found out about this place and I immediately wanted to go look...but...that crap-hole place I talked about with the bratty girl LVN's was sending their Nurse to assess my Dad, so I had to wait.
Take a guess what happened! We sat there, time wasting and ticking away, and the "assessment" Nurse, who looked and smelled as if she'd been smoking since age 2, tells me she doesn't think they can handle him because he can walk and wanders.
F***********CK! I TOLD THEM that he was ambulatory on FRIDAY!!!! I TOLD THEM he wandered on FRIDAY!!! Now it's Monday and I am exasperated, and she acts like this is some new development. I'm sorry, but I must say it....ASSHOLES! Why waste their time and MY time? Arrrrrrrgh!
So the second smoker-Sally left, I jetted to the Manteca facility. While it wasn't up to my clearly impossible standards, it's doable. It's a locked unit, the people there all have some sort of dementia, and they SAID they were positive they could handle him. I repeated at least three times that my Dad wanders, he can walk, and that he gets argumentative. Their answer to all that was, "That stuff happens".
Sadly, I am so jaded that this is not making me jump for joy because 3 other places said the same thing, and then they changed their minds.
Someone is supposed to call me this morning...but I'm already planning on calling by 9 am if they haven't called me by then.
At this point, I would've settled for the craphole place. I am so beyond exhausted. I feel like IIIII have dementia...I can't remember anything, I start doing something and forget why I am there...I'm delusional, moody, and fed up. Someone must take my Dad. Right now. This minute.
And this minute, of course...now that it's morning and I just made the kiddies breakfast...and I need to get ready for the long day ahead...guess who is completely knocked out and comfortably in sleepyland?
Yep, Sleeping beauty is finally asleep now that the rest of us have to be up. He got us up SO many times last night that I can't even remember if I ever fell asleep at all.
Hubby is at an interview this morning so I am hoping that Daddy stays asleep. I have a REALLY hard time getting him in and out of the bathroom considering I am half his size and his limbs bend about as well as a broomstick.
If this place today doesn't pan out, I may just have a nervous breakdown.
And then I'll have to start calling facilities that are hours away, because that's all that's left.

The Irony.

What was I just saying?
Oh yeah, so for the rest of the night, Dad was psychotic and pissed off. He was jibber-jabbering about stuff I'm sure I will never understand...things and conversations that sounded like he was repeating from way back when...and they were conversations where he was mad, really mad.
One time he was yelling at the wall and I asked if he needed something...and then I was brought into the argument. He wanted to tell me that his ex, ex, ex wife had shown up without his knowledge and that, now that it was late, he was wondering if I could give her a 'meal ticket and bed'. I questioned him further...especially since he was only married one time to my mom. He said that she was not my mother, and asked what my last name was. When I told him, he didn't know that name, and I told him my first name and then said he'd known that all along (as if I questioned his sanity!).
One of the other 12 times he woke us up last night he said he wished we'd all be crippled or blind for what we've done to him...how we've mistreated him. Of course it made me feel sorry for him and started me wondering, in my obvious delerium, if there was any way I could not send him to another facility.
The last time he woke us up was for another accident. Hubby found him standing in the shower (he didn't know where he was) and the floor was covered in it...ack!...but his Depends was pulled up and fully dry. What the...? He was cussing us out left and right...because we'd made him have an accident. He said if we didn't hurry up and clean up that damn mess we'd MADE him make...he was going to bust through the glass doors.

My horoscope this morning said this:
"You may be wondering whose shoulder you should cry on when usually yours is the shoulder that everyone else likes to use. The collar of your shirt is probably soaking wet by now thanks to all the tears that have spilled on you. Your compassion for others is definitely one of your biggest strengths, but be aware of the fact that it can also be one of your biggest weaknesses."

Wow.
But, Arrrrgh.
As if I didn't know that...but somehow seeing that in writing made me have flashbacks of the last 3 years of dealing with Police, Managers, Doctors, Administrators, the front doors of facility after facility, endless nights with no sleep and my own health getting worse, and then...again, as if I didn't know this too...my kids. My kids, who have been dragged from place to place at all hours because of this freakin' Lewy Body Dementia. My kids who are only 5 and 9 right now...who have also for the last 3 years been thrown into this mess. My babies, who don't even really try to get me to play with them anymore because they already know what the answer will be...that I have to help Grampa, or that I'm tired, or that my body is not working that day from exhaustion. I have to let my guilt go and know that I did everything I could...because it's not just HIS life that is being killed by Lewy Body. It's mine, my husband's, and my two precious babies. I am missing out on important moments with them to help my Dad. Something must give.
My hope is one of two things: that either my sister's philosophy of what happens to us when you die, or mine, is 100% true...so I can let this go.
Her theory is that once you're gone, that's it. You're dead and don't know you're dead...because you're dead. In that case, my Dad would, well, be dead, and wouldn't have all these crazy thoughts about what he now thinks everyone "did" to him. The end would be the end and there would be no looking back at what really happened or what we actually sacrificed to try to help him. There would be no looking down from heaven and seeing us grieving him because he would just "be dead", in the ground, lifeless.
And then my theory is that we go someplace better and finally see what our lives were and the reality of things that happened to us, or that we made happen to ourselves. In that case, my Dad would see that, though I know I was not always perfect or patient, I spent 3 years putting my own life and my little kids life on hold...I dropped everything at all times...to make things better for him...and nothing I did was good enough...and I drove myself into the ground, lost friendhships (although, really...good riddance to those jerks), even jeopardized my marriage trying to prove that I could handle everything. Which I can't.
Anyway, it's now morning and everyone is awake...except Lewy...he ate breakfast and went back to bed.
I have a million phone calls to make. Lewy must go live in a nice place with caregivers who are not me.

And then sleep goes away. Arrrgh!

Daddy did not sleep a wink last night. And every 20-30 minutes he was yelling for help to go to the bathroom. He was very agitated too, and got pretty combative with hubby. Daddy swung at hubby two different times yesterday. He also keeps insisting that he will "get out of this dump one way or another".
Everything is a dump to him. The fancy places I've found him to live and even our house, which is only 3 years old. All dumps. The places that were actually dumps, he really didn't complain about. So obviously, me feeling guilty about what a place "looks like" is really all about me and my standards, because he'll hate everywhere he goes anyway.
So.
After lots of deliberation and asking a few people for their input, I've decided on a place for Daddy. It was the last place I toured, and, honestly, I am still struggling with how the place looks, even though by far it's the best-kept nursing home I saw.
I called, my god, over 30 homes and was shut down cold by all but 3. The criteria for these places is this: they really don't want people with dementia. If the person does have dementia, they have to fit into this category: female and non-ambulatory. So basically they all want the "pleasantly" confused little old lady who sits in a wheechair. Unbelievable.
The 3 places that would even consider taking Daddy were: One was on the busiest street and most ghetto-ish part of town. It's not locked, so anyone can come in or out, and for the people with dementia, they wear a wanderguard bracelet that sounds an alarm if they leave...and considering that when the mood hits Daddy can almost run...I am NOT putting him in a place like that where he could run outside and be hit by a car if someone doesn't get to him quick enough. The second place was, to be blunt, the worst looking place I've seen and the LVN's were all very young, which has not been a good thing so far. In the first few minutes I was there, at least 4 of them were rolling their eyes at either residents or the Administrator. Uh, sorry, NO. I've already dealt with bratty little girls who shouldn't be in this profession, and I am not signing up for that again.
The third place is actually a skilled nursing facility that caters to people exclusively with behavioral issues...people with dementia/alzheimer's and older people with other mental conditions. The facility is older, and it's definitely not "nice"...it could use a lot of work...but the Nurses there were the first ones I've ever come across that didn't look miserable. They seemed to actually be enjoying themselves and the residents. Many residents there are kind of easy to love, many have such mental deficits that they are mentally like an 8 year old. Most of the employees have been there for at least 10 years, and one has been there for 30 years, since the place opened. I think that says something. One person there even said that they absolutely loved their job there. Not one time have I EVER heard someone in this line of work say that. Not once. Their program sounds impressive...and though I am still struggling with the whole idea, I think this place could actually handle my Dad...because everyone there is JUST like him.
Tomorrow I will start the paperwork and see where we get.
Daddy has been unusually happy and calm today...and he hasn't needed as much help in the bathroom or with anything really today, which is so truly bizarrre, but very typical of this damn disease. But all of this, of course, makes me feel bad because it doesn't matter now...temporarily calm or not, he must go live somewhere else. I know that tomorrow, or even within a few hours (or minutes), he could be back to screaming and fighting and being completely unbearable. My decision is made and I CANNOT let my guilt make me think I can have him here. I tried. I tried twice. Three times. But...even knowing that I've done a hundred times more than anyone else would've even thought of doing, I still feel bad, I just do. I may not have had the best relationship with him growing up, hell, no one ever has...and maybe he really did suck as a Dad and never really took care of us...he's still a human being that deserves to be treated with some sort of dignity. I wish I could provide a better environment for him, but I can't. Case closed.

Sleep finally comes...like a boulder.

Last night we gave Daddy his dose of Xanax. Need I mention again that I do not necessarily approve of these sorts of drugs...?...but he was SO very agitated that we had to do something. All day he'd been getting irritated over everything. Then he was yelling at us, saying he was going to "call the law", and then, my favorite...he yelled at my 5 and 9 year old and said they were letting the "jiggaboos" run up and down the stairs. I tried really, really hard not to respond to that, but I couldn't help it. I did raise my voice and tell him that my kids are not racist, and we do not say or think things like that in my house. Period. The he got even more mad and hubby tried to help him to his room and Daddy swung his arm away so fast that he came within an inch of elbowing my 5 year old in the face. Both kids started crying and we told Daddy it was time for some quiet time in his room. Then he yelled more.
Arrrrgh!
But whatever took place between then and bedtime, I don't know. At 9 pm we were beat so we headed to bed. I checked on Daddy one more time before I tried to go to sleep and he was in his bed already sleeping. I couldn't believe it.
Then this morning I woke up at about 6am and realized Daddy hadn't woken us up ALL night. That dread started creeping up my throat.
I went downstairs and he was laying on the floor, halfway inbetween his room and the hallway that goes to the bathroom. There was no sign of blood, or "trauma", but I couldn't wake him. I got hubby and we couldn't get him to respond.
Then we nudged him as we said his name very loudly and he finally started slurring that he needed to go to the bathroom. We tried and tried, and Daddy could not open his eyes or move his limbs. We mangaged to get him on the bed and we put a Depends on him in case he had an accident. He was asleep within seconds, he was barely conscience of the fact that he was being moved.
I can only assume that the Xanax just finally helped him sleep...and that when sleep finally came, his body wasn't giving it up. He finally woke and ate at about noon, but went back to bed and napped most of the day.
My brother came by before dinner and saw a little bit of what's been happening...although I admit that I wish Daddy would've "performed" for him like he's been doing for us. But, no show.
After dinner, Daddy went into his room and sat in his chair.
I hope he gets some sleep tonight...and that last night's sleep-coma on the floor was some strange fluke. Scared the hell outta me.

Air: A fat-free, no-calorie treat.

I've noticed that Daddy has been doing one thing in particular a lot lately, and he just did it again...he ate air. What I mean is that he thought he'd grabbed something to eat and was walking with nothing in his hand, leaning over taking "bites" out of it...and even chewing!
I asked him what he was eating. He had NO idea he wasn't eating anything.

I was on the phone with my sister and he was doing strange things that she heard me talking to him about...like he grabbed the mop and was "mopping" invisible crumbs off the carpet. Then he got on the phone and had what seemed like a fairly normal conversation. It actually rather annoyed me because we haven't had anything resembling a "normal" conversation with him in weeks! But right after got off the phone with my sister...talking to her like a normal person would, he did the eating air thing.
Pfffft!
From people I've talked to and things I've read, people with Lewy Bodies in particular seem to be able to "keep it together" for just enough time to make a few people think they sound normal...like they are either 'pulling one over' on the rest of us, or are great actors. But then it's back to the same weird behavior. This disease is truly bizarre.

My hunt for a facility today left me scratching my head. Very few places will even consider taking people with dementia if they are ambulatory (able to walk). I toured two places today and one might be a possibility, but everyone there is JUST like Daddy...most are able to get around and they all have some serious mental impairments. This worries me because Daddy is so quick to argue, I'm afraid that he will be in a constant scuff with someone else is also combative and quick to argue...but, as my sister pointed out, our Dad hates confrontation, so that may make him keep quiet. I don't know. I hate making these decsions.

Lewy, Energizer Bunny.

Daddy did not sleep last night. Period.
And considering he was frantic the entire day and really didn't sleep the night before either...his day of pacing, sweating, freaking out over anything and everything and having Oscar-winning hallucinations, you'd think he would pass out from delerium. But, no. Seriously, every 5 minutes there was an "emergency" with him yesterday. If we dared to go upstairs to do laundry, go use the bathroom, whatever...he was yelling for us. If he couldn't SEE us, we'd abandoned him.
Last night, about every 20 minutes, one of us was down there helping him in the bathroom or turning off lights and getting Lewy back in bed. His main focus all night was that he didn't know when he was supposed to go to work, so he was all amped up about being late. Oy.
But now that it's time to get up, feed the kiddies, start the day, he is sound asleep. For how long, I don't know...but I do know that I searched all day yesterday for a nursing home that take people with dementia. I was on the phone half the day, looking at places and then of course, attempting to do the things we actually need to get done for our lives and our children's lives to somewhat continue on. This is so ridiculous.
Of the 13 homes I called, there were two in my city that would even consider taking Daddy...one looks like a meth lab and the other doesn't have a bed available anyway.
My search continues today. I must add that on "the" Alzheimer's website, they have this search you can do for facilities...USELESS! One would think that on an Alzheimer's site, they would only list the places that would accept people with dementia's...but, uh-uh...the list they have is like looking in the phone book. I expected more from the Alzheimer's Association, how disappointing.