I have been at my parents’ for 3 weeks. I’m tired, so this is going to be bullet-style for the most part.
It’s also hotter than Hell up in Oregon.
Just a few days ago my dad started showing some signs of delirium. He was almost always lucid before this. He has:
- Started turning on the stove, thinking that he is turning it off.
- He almost urinated in the kitchen, thinking he was in the bathroom.
- He started peeling the chocolate off his Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup because he thought it was the wrapper.
Hospice caretakers encouraged us to go on a trip as a family. Yesterday we headed out for Astoria, Oregon. Here’s a rundown of that shitshow:
- About an hour into the drive, Dad kept trying to open the car door while Mom was driving.
- He kept taking off his seatbelt.
- He kept fiddling with the cigarette lighter.
- My mom was sort of freaking out, because it would always start when we weren’t near a safe place to pull over.
- I had to sit behind him and watch him like a hawk.
We got as far as Seaside, Oregon. We parked and ate sandwiches. My mom and I were exhausted and my dad was lucid enough to be upset that his brain was going. (My goddamn sister somehow slept through all the insanity.)
My Dad asked us to turn around and go home., which we agreed was a good idea. Then:
- My 4 year-old and 5 year-old nieces cried for at least an hour, because they wanted to go to the beach.
- My brother loudly bitched with our nieces for the same reason. He is 25 years-old. Now, he is on the autism spectrum. Still, my patience was worn thin after half an hour of him saying things like, “That’s not fair. This isn’t fair. Why does Dad get to decide we go home?” I know empathy is hard for him, but I still had to grit my teeth.
At least Dad stopped trying to open the goddamn car door.
ETA: Deleted photo, privacy and stuff.